ANP 


L 


ALVILDE   PP.YDZ 


a 


SANPRIEL 

The  Promised  L<and 


BY 

ALVILDE  PRYDZ 


Authorized  translation  from  tht  Ntrwteian 

By  HESTER  CODDINGTON 


BOSTON:  RICHARD  G.  BADGER 

TORONTO:  THE  COPP  CLARK  CO.,  LIMITED 


Copyright,  1914,  by  Richard  G.  Badger 
All  rights  reserved 


THE  GORHAM  PRESS,  BOSTON,  U.  S.  A. 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE 

Alvilde  Prydz  ranks  among  the  foremost  lit- 
erary representatives  of  Norway.  Both  Bjornson 
and  Ibsen  considered  her  their  greatest  woman 
writer.  At  different  times  Miss  Prydz  has  been 
honored  by  public  grants  of  money,  strong  evi- 
dence of  the  esteem  in  which  she  is  held  by  her 
countrymen. 

Miss  Prydz  was  born  on  the  old  family  estate 
of  Tosterod  in  Southern  Norway,  where  she  spent 
her  early  childhood.  Through  her  father  she  is 
descended  from  an  old  German  family  of  nobility, 
while  on  her  mother's  side  she  is  connected  with  a 
Danish  family  noted  for  its  artistic  gifts. 

At  the  age  of  seventeen  she  accepted  a  position 
as  private  teacher  in  a  minister's  family.  Follow- 
ing this  came  a  period  of  study,  then  teaching 
again,  during  which  time  she  made  a  specialty  of 
music  and  the  languages.  Then  came  a  break- 
down, the  result  of  overwork. 

It  was  during  the  period  of  recuperation  that 
Miss  Prydz  began  in  earnest  the  literary  work 
which  was  destined  to  become  her  life-work. 

The  first  of  her  works  to  win  international  fame 


2118723 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE 

was  Guwvor,  Thor's  Daughter  of  Hard,  which 
came  out  in  1896  (published  in  England  under 
the  title :  The  Heart  of  the  Northern  Sea} . 

It  was  of  this  work  that  Bjornson  said:  "  Oh, 
take  this  strong  book  and  read  it.  ...  Here  then, 
at  last,  are  pictured  human  beings  quite  different 
from  the  .  .  .  jellyfish  creatures  .  .  .  which  are 
now  being  served  up  in  literature  .  .  ."  He  con- 
tinues, saying  that  here  she  characterizes  "  human- 
ity as  it  is  on  the  street  and  in  daily  intercourse, 
humanity  without  purpose  or  aspiration,  humanity 
in  daily  life." 

What  Bjornson  said  of  Gunvor  might  likewise 
be  said  of  her  other  works,  although  they  differ 
greatly,  both  as  regards  style  and  method  of  treat- 
ment. 

Among  the  novels  which  have  followed  Gunvor 
are  Sylvia,  The  Children  of  Hard,  In  U  he  dale, 
and  While  it  was  Summer. 

Miss  Prydz  has  produced  several  plays,  one  of 
which,  Aino,  has  been  presented  at  the  National 
Theater  in  Christiania. 

The  first  edition  of  the  present  work  came  out 
in  1903  under  the  title,  Det  Lovede  Land  (The 
Promised  Land) . 

The  translator  wishes  here  to  express  her  sin- 
cere appreciation  of  the  kindly  interest  and  ap- 
proval which,  since  the  first  inception  of  this  work, 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE 

have  been  so  cordially  extended  to  her  by  the 
author. 

Also,  she  takes  this  opportunity  to  acknowledge 
the  great  indebtedness  which  she  feels  towards 
Professor  Julius  E.  Olson,  Head  of  the  Scandina- 
vian Department  of  the  University  of  Wisconsin. 
She  not  only  thanks  him  for  the  advice  and  as- 
sistance which  have  been  at  all  times  so  generously 
given,  but  particularly  she  feels  that  she  owes  to 
him  a  debt  of  gratitude  for  having,  by  the  in- 
spiration of  his  teaching,  revealed  to  her  the  depth 
and  beauty  of  Scandinavian  thought  and  literature. 


And  thou  shalt  remember  all  the  way  which 
the  Lord  thy  God  hath  led  thee  these  forty  years 
in  the  wilderness.  .  .  .  And  he  humbled  thee, 
and  suffered  thee  to  hunger,  and  fed  thee  with 
manna.  .  .  .  Thy  raiment  waxed  not  old  upon 
thee,  neither  did  thy  foot  swell.  .  .  . 

For  the  Lord  thy  God  bringeth  thee  into  a  good 
land,  a  land  of  brooks  of  water,  of  fountains  and 
depths  that  spring  out  of  valleys  and  hills  —  a 
land  of  wheat,  and  barley,  and  vines,  and  fig  trees, 
and  pomegranates  —  a  land  of  oil,  olive  and 
honey  —  a  land  wherein  thou  shalt  eat  thy  bread 

without  scarceness 

THE  FIFTH  BOOK  OF  MOSES 


I 

But  the  Lord  said:  Do  you  not  see  that  the 
animal  is  bleeding,  and  do  you  not  hear  how  it 
shrieks  and  moans? 

But  the  disciples  said:  No,  Lord,  we  do  not 
hear  it  shrieking  and  moaning. 

The  Coptic  Bible 


There  they  lie  in  the  blue  haze,  mountain  above 
mountain,  a  mighty  stairway  leading  up  to  the 
heights,  where  the  valley  is  filled  with  the  green 
glittering  glacier,  where  peak  rises  above  peak, 
far  up  into  heaven's  light. 

There  is  a  brightness  up  there  —  the  cold  glow 
of  eternity.  In  dazzling  lines  it  rises  and  fades 
away,  like  a  distant,  alluring  land  which  does  not 
belong  to  earth. 

Down  below  lies  Flyen,1  which  does  belong  to 
earth.  It  hides  away  enticingly,  then  rises  gently, 
shifting  in  its  thousand  colors,  warm  and  mysteri- 
ous. In  the  peace  of  an  early  summer  after- 
noon it  lies  there,  shimmering  in  the  bright  sun- 
light, its  slopes  stretching  of  toward  the  horizon 
like  a  sea  of  gold. 

The  sun  wraps  his  beaming  mantle  about  him 
and  makes  ready  to  depart.  The  hills  below 
darken.  The  flowering  rush  closes  its  blossoms 
and  veils  its  green  splendor. 

But  over  there,  on  the  broad,  billowy  slopes  of 
Flyen,  all  are  not  yet  ready. 

1  One  of  the  plateaus  peculiar  to  the  mountains  of  Norway, 
with  a  broad  expanse  of  heath  or  moor. 


The  beams  play  over  the  heather,  the  dwarf 
birch  flames  up,  the  bright  osier  becomes  rose 
red.  The  air  is  piled  with  fragrance.  From  leaf 
and  branch,  from  the  fresh  earth  it  rises,  like  the 
delicate,  hidden  sweetness  of  some  mysterious 
secret. 

All  who  live  on  Fly  en  know  about  it.  Their 
minds  are  full  of  it.  They  can  think  of  nothing 
but  the  fact  that  the  day  has  been  so  beautiful  — 
this  first  great  day  of  sunshine,  with  its  brightness 
covering  the  slopes  like  a  flood.  They  are  in- 
deed reminded,  all  the  little  creatures  of  the  fields, 
that  they  must  open  their  eyes  and  their  slumber- 
ing souls. 

It  is  as  if  one  mighty  breath  of  joy  had  risen 
from  them  all.  It  comes  from  the  moss,  from 
heath  and  thicket,  from  river  and  lake.  It  rocks 
in  the  warm,  soft  air,  is  fused  with  the  light  and 
fragrance,  is  lost  in  sound,  dies  away.  For  they 
all  know  the  beautiful  secret.  A  thousand  soft 
voices  say  to  you:  Summer  is  here. 

The  evening  breeze  arrives.  He  wants  to 
know  what  is  going  on.  He  steals  over  and  listens 
among  the  grass  and  heather.  Then  of  he  goes 
into  the  forest  and  tells  what  he  has  heard. 

Over  Flyen  the  sun  is  sinking. 

The  slopes  seem  to  move  upward  as  the  last 
rays  of  light  and  the  shadows  together  hasten 
noiselessly  over  them. 


The  warm  glow  in  the  blood  changes.  The 
shadows  lose  their  silvery  glow.  They  no 
longer  move  in  gentle  undulations;  silent  and 
heavy,  they  sink  down  and  are  merged  together. 

Everything  grows  quiet. 

With  soft  tread  sound  withdraws. 

Cautiously  the  new  moon  lifts  its  horn.  A 
single  ray  touches  it,  then  passes  on.  Again  it 
stands  there  vaguely  shimmering. 

All  is  silent  —  and  heavy  —  and  dark. 

It  is  as  if  some  one  were  going  about  closing 
the  doors  and  locking  up. 

And  Flyen  slumbers,  deep  and  still,  dreaming 
without  fear  or  regret,  while  the  air  spins  her 
silken  web  about  peak  and  crag,  covering  the 
earth  with  a  rare  and  shining  silver  tissue,  which 
lies  there  in  the  summer  night  like  long  soft  bil- 
lows that  have  gone  to  rest. 


SANPRIEL 


SANPRIEL 

CHAPTER  I 

DOWN  on  the  slope  toward  the  lake  lies  the 
new  Forest  Home  Hotel.  In  the  evening 
when  the  sun  goes  down  one  can  see  it  from  far 
up  the  valley,  there  where  the  sun's  rays  strike 
it.  Even  when  the  whole  valley  has  grown  dark 
it  still  shines  there  in  the  light. 

Softly  the  last  beam  glides  over  the  lawn. 
All  the  animals  in  the  fields  stop  to  listen,  for  the 
air  is  filled  with  a  strange  speech.  It  is  the  wind 
as  it  passes  through  the  rushes  bringing  a  message 
from  the  river.  It  is  the  far-distant  waterfall. 
It  is  the  deep  soughing  of  the  pines  in  the  forest. 

But  the  instant  the  sun  sinks  and  day  dies  away 
everything  is  quiet.  It  is  a  moment  of  silent 
reverence.  A  mighty  angelus  bell  calls  the  whole 
earth  to  worship. 

All  bow  their  heads  in  silence  —  all  except 
man.  He  is  so  intelligent,  he  knows  that  the  sun 
goes  down  every  day,  so  it  is  nothing  but  an  every- 
day affair.  He  is  so  absorbed  in  his  own  noise 
that  he  is  always  the  last  to  become  quiet. 

17 


1 8  SANPRIEL 

For  that  reason  all  the  animals  that  could  do 
so  have  moved  away  from  the  fields  and  hills 
below,  up  into  Flyen,  since  the  hotel  has  arrived. 

At  the  foot  of  the  steps  stood  Marit  Hennerud 
waiting  for  some  one.  Mother  Hennerud  never 
appeared,  but  her  daughter  Marit  did  the  honors 
for  her. 

She  stood  there  listening  with  a  smile  in  her 
dreamy  brown  eyes.  She  heard  a  carriage  below 
the  hill  and  surmised  that  it  was  Fru  Thora 
Thammers  with  her  son  and  daughter.  She 
could  not  quite  keep  the  young  man  out  of  her 
thoughts.  If  she  were  not  too  busy  she  usually 
fell  just  a  bit  in  love  with  each  young  man  in  turn 
as  he  came.  It  had  become  a  habit  of  hers. 

Yes,  it  was  they.  For  the  moment  she  forgot 
the  young  man.  It  was  Fru  Thammers  who  be- 
came the  recipient  of  the  exuberant  welcome  which 
Marit  Hennerud  always  prepared  for  her  guests. 

"  Will  you  not  choose  your  apartments,  Fru 
Thammers?  We  have  different  cottages.  I  wish 
they  all  had  names,  it  is  so  amusing.  Yes,  this 
is  the  main  building,  the  Land  of  Goshen. 
You'd  better  look  around  a  little  first.  Yes  I 
must  say  we  are  unusually  full  this  year  —  fine 
people,  almost  all  distinguished,  interesting,  or 
literary,  ladies  from  the  best  society  and  noted 
men,  professors  and  such  like.  Here  you  can 


SANPRIEL  19 

see  —  no,  this  cottage  is  the  only  one  where  you 
can't  have  a  room.  It  is  Mount  Pisgah.  The 
man  who  lives  here  is  so  utterly  —  so  all  the 
ladies  say ;  but  my,  how  they  do  enjoy  him !  There 
he  goes.  It  is  he,  Omar  Pasha,  who  has  given  a 
name  to  everything.  He  won't  have  anyone  else 
here.  He  pays  for  the  whole  house.  Wouldn't 
you  like  a  room  in  the  Wilderness?  That  is 
where  our  nicest  ladies  are.  No,  you  won't  want 
this.  This  is  Chaos  where  there  are  only  young 
folks.  You  would  rather  be  with  the  older  peo- 
ple. Now  I'll  go  after  the  keys." 

"  Yes,  Mamma,  it  will  be  much  pleasanter  for 
you  if  Birger  and  I  stay  here.  But  of  course  you 
won't  care  to  be  here  with  the  young  people." 

With  a  pained  expression  on  her  face  Fru 
Thammers  turned  toward  her  daughter.  The 
words  cut  her  to  the  heart;  and  the  voice,  that 
clear,  hard  voice  which  told  everything  so  plainly 
—  it  was  strange  that  she  could  never  become  ac- 
customed to  it. 

"  Dear  Gertrude,  it  surely  ought  to  be  pleas- 
anter for  me  in  the  company  of  my  children,'' 
she  said,  at  the  same  time  feeling  with  bitterness 
that  this  was  not  so. 

Just  then  Birger  broke  in  with  a  laugh. 

"  Do  you  know,  Mother,  you  are  a  queer  one, 
you  certainly  are!  Now  consider,  we  won't  be 
more  than  a  hundred  feet  or  so  away,  and  your 


20  SANPRIEL 

motherly  care  will  be  able  to  reach  us  even  here. 
So  you  can  rest  easy  in  the  distinguished  solitude 
of  the  Wilderness." 

He  stood  stretching  his  legs  after  the  long  car- 
riage ride,  at  the  same  time  trying  to  bite  his 
small  mustache.  He  was  just  a  trifle  stout  for 
a  young  man  of  twenty-five.  In  mild  surprise  his 
eyes  followed  Gertrude,  who,  with  all  the  time 
there  was  before  her,  had  already  gone  around 
examining  everything  in  the  most  energetic  way. 

Gertrude  was  tall  and  erect.  In  her  large  blue 
eyes  was  a  cold,  scornful  expression.  Like  her 
brother  she  had  strong  white  teeth,  very  conspicu- 
ous. 

She  came  over  toward  her  mother. 

"  It  would  be  better  for  you  to  room  over  there. 
It  would  be  easier  for  you  to  get  acquainted  with 
the  old  " 

Fru  Thammers  was  silent  as  Marit  came  with 
the  keys.  She  turned  toward  her. 

"Give  me  what  you  have,"  she  said  in  a  low, 
suppressed  tone. 

"  Yes,  I'm  sure  you'll  like  it  best  with  the  elite. 
Then  I  have  two  rooms  here  for  the  young  folks. 
Yes,  everything  is  ready.  Supper  is  waiting.  .  .  . 
This  way,  Madame." 

A  fire  of  pine  logs  blazed  in  the  great  central 


SANPRIEL  21 

hall  with  its  raftered  ceiling.  Most  of  the  guests 
were  gathered  around  the  hearth  in  rustic  chairs, 
or  sat  on  benches  along  the  wall. 

Among  the  chairs  there  was  one,  larger  and 
more  comfortable  than  the  rest,  of  heavy  oak, 
richly  carved.  This  they  said  had  been  the  mis- 
tress' chair  in  the  family  for  over  two  hundred 
years. 

It  was  always  taken  as  a  matter  of  course  that 
no  one  but  Fru  Thamar  Gyllenskjold  should  sit 
in  that  chair. 

When  she  arrived  a  week  before  it  was  as  if  a 
great  sailing  vessel  had  entered  a  small  sea. 
Huge  waves  were  set  in  motion,  and  all  the  small 
boats  rocked  in  the  swell. 

Even  Adjunct  De  Roch  had  succumbed;  he  who 
that  very  day  had  maintained  to  the  young  ladies 
that  nature  had  not  granted  any  special  dispensa- 
tion to  woman  on  account  of  her  sex.  And  al- 
though no  one  could  be  more  gallant  than  he,  yet 
at  heart  he  thought  that  women  ought  to  look  up 
to  him  with  great  respect.  But  in  the  presence 
of  Fru  Gyllenskjold  he  suddenly  became  very 
meek.  He  not  only  allowed  her  to  take  posses- 
sion of  the  chair-throne,  and  establish  a  little  court 
as  it  were,  but  he  took  upon  himself  the  position 
of  a  sort  of  steward  or  upper  chamberlain. 

As  usual,   she   sat  there   this   evening  gazing 


22  SANPRIEL 

about  as  if  everything  belonged  to  her.  She  sat 
leaning  back,  seemingly  entirely  absorbed  in  her 
toy  spaniel,  the  elegant  little  Princess  Leyla. 

This  evening  they  were  allowed  to  talk  almost 
as  they  pleased.  Only  now  and  then  would  one 
of  her  brief,  witty  remarks  show  with  what  skill 
she  could  turn  the  conversation  in  any  direction 
she  wished. 

Her  eyes  were  like  those  of  a  doe,  shining  and 
placid,  and  yet  so  changeable  that  if  she  barely 
moved  they  would  take  on  a  different  expression. 
People  thought  there  was  so  much  in  them,  a  world 
of  sincerity  and  goodheartedness;  and  often,  as 
to-night,  a  certain  dreamy  melancholy. 

She  was  really  so  anxious  about  her  husband, 
for  he  was  at  Karlsbad  and  was  not  at  all  well. 
It  had  come  to  her  how  much  she  thought  of  him 
after  all.  Nor  was  she  blind  to  the  significance 
of  his  salary  and  position  in  connection  with  her 
own  welfare. 

Most  of  the  others  were  gazing  at  her.  She 
was  certainly  magnificent  to  look  upon,  as  she 
sat  there  in  her  Nile-green  velvet  gown,  with  head 
slightly  bowed,  displaying  the  heavy,  ash-blond 
hair  arranged  in  Madonna  style. 

She  sat  playing  with  Leyla's  silky  white  ears. 
By  her  side  sat  Adjunct  De  Roch,  an  elegant,  red- 
cheeked  blond,  with  mild  blue  eyes  and  a  con- 
tinual little  falsetto  laugh.  His  hands  were 


SANPRIEL  23 

white  and  adorned  with  rings,  his  smile  conde- 
scending. 

Yet  he  sat  there  now  in  his  mild  way  fulminat- 
ing against  the  egotism  of  the  times.  He  could 
not  endure  egotism  in  anyone,  in  his  wife,  or  his 
friends,  or  anyone  else.  There  was  nothing  that 
aroused  his  anger  to  such  a  degree  as  the  egotism 
of  another  person. 

His  wife  sat  by  his  side.  She  seldom  said 
anything.  Out  of  pure  good  nature  she  had  ac- 
customed herself  to  remain  silent. 

The  company  had  gathered  in  various  groups. 

Professor  Maurus,  a  big,  heavy-set  man  with 
a  beard  that  covered  the  corners  of  his  mouth, 
walked  up  and  down  the  room  with  elevated  chin 
and  inflated  chest,  discussing  the  reality  of  matter. 
He  was  fond  of  discussing  the  reality  of  matter. 
If  one  were  only  logical  then  everything  was  clear. 

A  slender  young  doctor  walked  beside  him  with 
noiseless  tread,  seeming  hardly  to  belong  to  earth. 
He  was  in  fact  a  genius,  and  looked  down  upon 
everything  from  such  a  height  that  in  reality  he 
knew  nothing  of  the  affairs  of  this  world.  His 
cautious,  scientific  mode  of  expression  the  profes- 
sor took  to  be  youthful  modesty,  and  it  was  a 
great  pleasure  to  him  to  have  a  chance  to  pre- 
sent once  more  his  arguments  concerning  cause 
and  effect. 

Fru  Maurus  sat  in  great  dignity,  her  eyes  fol- 


24  SANPRIEL 

lowing  her  husband  with  a  kindly  expression  of 
melancholy.  For  he  was  wonderful,  Maurus, 
when  he  was  thus  explaining  the  plans  of  the 
Creator  —  but  he  was  not  entertaining.  Beside 
her  were  some  ladies  who  were  conversing  to- 
gether. 

Fru  Captain  Fehr  always  wanted  to  converse 
about  spiritual  matters.  She  had  discovered  that 
her  Christian  faith  was  in  a  bad  way  and  had  set 
herself  to  right  it  by  joining  various  associations. 
She  had  found  herself  greatly  benefited,  but  never- 
theless had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  religion 
was  something  that  must  not  be  meddled  with  too 
much. 

Fru  School-director  Sahm  knew  perfectly  well 
that  in  addition  to  a  noble  old  nose  she  had  great 
natural  gifts.  She  had  a  burning  desire  to  talk 
about  profound  subjects.  She  liked  to  get  some- 
one over  in  a  corner,  preferably  a  man,  and  keep 
him  there  all  to  herself,  while  with  nervous  energy 
she  would  pour  forth  all  that  she  knew  about  art 
of  the  past,  of  the  present,  or  of  the  future  — 
about  China,  Japan,  America  —  about  what 
morality  was,  and  who  really  were  the  standard 
bearers  of  civilization. 

To-night  she  had  to  be  satisfied  with  Fru  Iver- 
sen,  Fru  Really-Wholesale-dealer  Iversen,  as  one 
of  the  gentlemen  had  dubbed  her,  because  she  had 
once  found  it  necessary  to  assert  her  position. 


SANPRIEL  25 

But  Fru  Iversen  was  not  the  worst  that  could 
happen.  Fru  Iversen  understood  her. 

"  It  must  be  a  wonderful  satisfaction,  to  be  able 
to  get  into  one's  right  place  in  the  world  —  yes, 
that  I  can  safely  say." 

Of  course  Fru  Iversen  was  right  about  it,  but 
Fru  Liss  was  just  impossible.  And  Fru  Liss  was 
almost  always  somewhere  annoyingly  near. 

Fru  Liss,  otherwise  Fru  Wanda  Arescho,  was 
a  little  beauty  with  a  Cupid's  bow  of  a  mouth  and 
indefinite,  half-awake  eyes  that  could  at  times  take 
on  the  most  soulful  expression,  without  their 
owner  being  in  the  least  aware  of  it,  for  it  was 
purely  a  physical  accident.  Then  she  had  such 
an  exquisite  complexion.  It  was  quite  the  usual 
thing  for  the  men  to  lose  their  hearts  to  her. 

For  the  moment  she  was  graciously  receiving 
the  homage  of  an  elegant  young  man  whom  Fru 
Gyllenskjold  had  christened  Don  Miguel  de  Aran- 
jas,  the  real  name  of  the  wicked  Don  Juan. 

Fru  Liss  had  a  reputation  among  the  ladies  for 
saying  stupid  things;  but  to  the  men  she  always 
gave  pleasure. 

Yet  even  the  most  observant  among  them  was 
never  quite  sure  about  her  mental  faculties.  No 
one  was  ever  allowed  to  say  anything  unpleasant 
about  her.  They  found  her  fascinating  and  — 
eivig  weiblich.  Many  of  them  also  thought  her 
remarkably  profound  because  she  was  so  charm- 


26  SANPRIEL 

ing.  Then  she  had  just  the  dearest  little  trick 
of  trying  to  be  shocking,  although  in  a  most  fool- 
ish way;  but  one  could  easily  overlook  that  in  one 
who  was  so  charming. 

She  came  to  the  mountains  every  summer  for 
the  sake  of  her  health,  although  she  was  undoubt- 
edly destined  for  a  long  life. 

At  any  rate  she  was  intelligent  enough  to  look 
out  for  herself.  That  was  her  one  talent.  Her 
desire  for  work  was  satisfied  by  watching  others. 
She  loved  her  husband.  He  was  such  a  dear,  and 
he  understood  her.  It  was  so  annoying  that  he 
never  seemed  to  think  he  had  time  to  come  up 
with  her.  In  her  eyes  he  was  a  very  ingenious 
contrivance  which,  besides  contributing  to  her  wel- 
fare in  all  sorts  of  ways,  also  had  the  faculty  of 
bringing  forth  in  a  wonderfully  quick  fashion  any- 
thing for  which  she  might  happen  to  wish. 

Don  Miguel  sat  twisting  his  heavy  mustache 
with  graceful  movements  of  the  hand  and  gazing 
at  her.  How  irresistible  she  was  as  she  dis- 
coursed on  all  those  remarkable  subjects!  For 
there  was  nothing  between  heaven  and  earth  she 
would  not  venture  to  discuss  with  Don  Miguel, 
although  she  knew  he  was  so  unspeakably  learned. 
But  there  was  one  thing  Fru  Liss  could  not  en- 
dure. That  was  for  anyone  to  find  fault  with 
conditions  here  in  this  world,  and  especially  in  her 
dear  Christiania. 


SANPRIEL  27 

Among  other  things,  Fru  von  Asten  was  espe- 
cially given  to  doing  that.  So  Fru  Liss  turned  to- 
ward her  with  almost  open  anger  in  her  big  blue 
eyes. 

"  My  dear,  that  is  really  only  a  woman's  argu- 
ment. Everything  certainly  goes  along  there  as 
it  ought  to  go.  Indeed  it  is  our  best  men  who 
have  charge  of  things,  so  they  are  certainly  well 
managed.  I  thought  everyone  knew  that  our  pro- 
fessors were  most  exceptional,  quite  different  from 
other  places  for  example,  where  they  are 
only " 

Fru  von  Asten  had  no  chance  to  learn  anything 
further  on  that  point,  for  suddenly  Fru  Liss 
stopped.  It  was  not  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world 
to  contradict  Fru  von  Asten.  Some  unfortunate 
beings  up  there  had  discovered  to  their  sorrow 
that  she  resembled  a  little  wild  beast.  Not  even 
her  best  friends  could  be  certain  that  the  small 
claws  were  sheathed.  Even  though  she  might 
repeatedly  call  one  "  My  dear  friend,"  it  was  with 
difficulty  that  she  refrained  entirely  from  using 
her  claws.  But  when  she  addressed  anyone  as 
"  My  angel,"  then  all  knew  that  the  claws  were  in 
full  activity. 

On  their  arrival  she  and  her  husband,  Whole- 
sale-merchant Stern,  had  been  the  occasion  of 
much  wonderment;  in  the  first  place  because  she 
had  gone  back  to  the  good  old  custom  of  keeping 


28  SANPRIEL 

her  own  name,  and  in  the  second  place  because 
she  had  chosen  her  quarters  in  the  main  building, 
while  her  husband  roomed  in  a  little  cottage  all  by 
himself.  By  the  second  day,  however,  no  one 
wondered  any  longer. 

He  had  been  dubbed  Omar  Pasha  almost  im- 
mediately. As  usual  it  was  Fru  Gyllenskjold  who 
did  it.  No  one  could  tell  why,  but  they  all  found 
the  name  appropriate. 

Fru  von  Asten  laughed  at  them.  She  thought 
women  were  stupid;  and  as  for  her  husband,  she 
had  an  unspeakable  contempt  for  him.  It  would 
have  been  difficult  for  her  to  tell  why,  but  then 
that  was  not  necessary. 

This  evening  Fru  von  Asten  was  more  than 
usually  occupied.  She  was  engaged  in  conver- 
sation with  a  young  engineer,  a  man  heroic  in 
size,  with  sleepy  blue  eyes  and  a  light  mustache. 
He  posed  before  her  like  Mars  at  rest.  It  was 
interesting  to  watch  him.  He  impressed  her. 

Above  all  the  confusion  and  noise  were  heard 
the  falsetto  tones  of  Adjunct  De  Roch's  voice. 
He  had  discovered  how  simple  everything  was 
after  all.  Human  beings  were  very  easy  to  un- 
derstand and  direct,  particularly  children.  It 
was  merely  a  matter  of  giving  them  a  good  foun- 
dation and  starting  them  in  the  right  direction. 
They  would  always  be  thankful  for  it.  His  wife 
smiled  appreciatively. 


SANPRIEL  29 

At  that  moment  Fru  Thammers  entered  the 
room. 

There  was  a  slight  lull  in  the  conversation; 
even  an  entirely  new  theory  concerning  the  origin 
of  new  stars  was  checked  for  the  moment. 

They  knew  who  she  was ;  the  young  people  had 
come  in  before.  Yet  everyone  must  have  a  look 
at  her.  One  practical  soul  stirred  up  the  pine 
knots  so  that  the  light  of  the  flame  fell  on  the 
slender,  slightly  bent  lady  who  came  gliding  across 
the  room  toward  her  children. 

Some  of  the  near-sighted,  learned  gentlemen 
stared  at  her  a  moment  and  discovered  that  the 
fine  figure  was  not  without  a  certain  charm;  but 
she  was  no  longer  young.  They  missed  that  irre- 
sistible something  which  appeals  even  to  men  of 
learning,  so  they  returned  to  their  hypotheses  con- 
cerning the  new  stars. 

Yet  there  were  some  who  were  farther  sighted. 
They  saw  that  she  was  one  of  those  who  needed 
to  be  studied  a  little.  Then  she  became  quite  in- 
teresting. The  relaxed  figure  still  moved  with 
something  of  the  suppleness  of  youth,  and  in  her 
expression  there  was  the  suggestion  of  a  hidden 
summer,  together  with  a  hint  of  the  weariness  and 
self-restraint  of  age.  Her  skin  was  white,  with- 
out color;  her  eyes  wonderfully  clear  and  trans- 
lucent, with  that  far-away  gaze  which  seemed  not 
to  see  anything  close  at  hand. 


30  SANPRIEL 

The  ladies  saw  immediately  that  her  hair  had 
begun  to  turn,  and  that  the  far-away  expression 
was  not  at  all  becoming  to  her. 

Fru  Gyllenskjold  sat  smiling  to  herself.  She 
was  reminded  of  a  closed  house.  Some  day  the 
windows  and  doors  would  be  thrown  open.  She 
thought  further:  "  Has  she  a  lover?  "  That  sort 
of  thing  interested  Fru  Gyllenskjold.  She  de- 
cided to  take  her  up. 

In  a  corner  by  the  window  sat  Merchant  Stern, 
called  Omar  Pasha.  He  also  looked  at  her  and 
noted  the  quiet  face,  the  soft  glance.  His  eye  fol- 
lowed the  slow  grace  of  her  movements  which 
acted  like  music  upon  him.  He  noticed  the 
mouth  —  there  was  an  expression,  sharp  and 
strained,  which  seemed  to  have  been  carved  by 
suffering.  He  thought  of  a  voice  in  the  far-dis- 
tant past,  a  low,  suppressed  voice,  wonderfully 
mellow  in  tone.  His  glance  took  in  her  figure. 
He  leaned  forward  and  remained  sitting  there, 
his  head  buried  in  his  hands.  He  knew  her.  He 
had  found  her  in  the  white  silence  which  envel- 
oped her. 

When  Fru  Thammers  rose  from  the  table  Fru 
Gyllenskjold  bade  her  welcome  with  her  most 
charming  smile,  and  introduced  her  to  the  com- 
pany. 

The  Adjunct  had  to  move.     Fru  Gyllenskjold 


SANPRIEL  31 

wanted  the  newcomer  to  sit  beside  her.  The 
other  ladies  received  her  very  amiably.  When 
Fru  Gyllenskjold  took  hold  of  things  in  that  fash- 
ion the  others  followed  as  a  matter  of  course. 

Fru  Gyllenskjold  looked  gayly  about. 

"  Where  is  Omar  Pasha?  He  is  not  in  good 
spirits  to-day. 

Ce  jeune  Omar,  pascha  de  Negrepont  — 
Parceque  son  tigre  de  Nubie  est  mort ! 

I  must  tell  you  he  is  our  enfant  terrible,  an  ex- 
ample of  human  unreliability.  To-morrow  he 
will  probably  dance  a  cancan.  Would  it  please 
you  to  tear  yourself  away  from  your  African 
dreams  and  come  forth  from  your  corner?  Let 
me  confide  in  you,  Fru  Thammers,  he  is  deep  in 
contemplation  of  human  stupidity  and  is  going  to 
write  a  book  on  that  subject." 

The  man  in  the  corner  came  forward  with  a 
smile  and  a  bow. 

"  They  say  the  most  wonderful  things  about 
me.  Who  indeed  would  have  the  courage  to  un- 
dertake such  a  work?  " 

Fru  Gyllenskjold  laughed. 

'  This  is  one  of  our  Pasha's  bad  days.  It  is  im- 
possible for  him  not  to  grumble." 

Merchant  Stern  was  a  man  with  whom  all  the 
ladies  fell  in  love  because  of  his  remarkable  face. 
Then,  too,  he  never  did  anything  as  others  did. 


32  SANPRIEL 

They  never  knew  just  what  he  would  do  —  that 
was  one  of  his  charms. 

He  was  just  on  the  point  of  answering  when 
his  wife's  sharp  voice  was  heard. 

"  There  are  just  four  things  that  I  rave  over, 
just  four  things " 

But  what  those  four  things  were  was  not  made 
known  to  all,  for  at  that  moment  Don  Miguel 
sat  down  at  the  piano  and  after  a  few  strong 
chords  broke  into  a  waltz,  which  seemed  to  ex- 
press a  weariness  with  the  cold  frivolity  of  the 
present  generation.  The  ladies  thought  it  charm- 
ing, and  continued  to  direct  their  attention  toward 
Fru  Thammers. 

Now  Fru  Liss  was  going  to  sing.  She  had 
promised  to  do  so,  but  a  great  deal  of  prepara- 
tion was  necessary  whenever  she  sang. 

Many  of  the  gentlemen  became  very  busy  all  at 
once. 

Suddenly  above  the  confusion  Fru  Thammers 
heard  the  confident  tones  of  her  daughter's  voice. 

That  was  a  remarkable  thing  about  Gertrude. 
She  was  always  ready  with  an  opinion,  and  that 
a  most  decided  one,  on  any  question  that  might 
come  up. 

Fru  Thammers  looked  up  and  met  the  gaze  of 
the  bright,  inquisitive  eyes,  eyes  that  were  always 
looking  for  the  little  things,  for  things  that  could 
be  criticised. 


SANPRIEL  33 

She  and  Birger  had  secured  for  themselves  two 
of  the  best  seats  by  the  fireplace  and  seemed  to 
feel  perfectly  at  home.  This  seemed  so  strange 
to  her,  for  she  herself  sat  there  like  a  diffident 
school  girl,  her  heart  oppressed  by  an  inexplicable 
dread. 

At  last  Fru  Liss  began  to  sing.  She  had  an 
ingratiating  little  voice.  It  was  said  of  her  that 
she  had  so  much  imagination.  She  could  appar- 
ently get  something  out  of  everything.  With  the 
most  mysterious  air,  as  if  she  were  making  them 
all  accessory  to  a  plot,  or  with  a  voice  full  of  in- 
tense longing,  she  would  chirp  forth  even  the 
tamest  words. 

She  was  in  good  voice  this  evening,  and  the 
clear  notes  sounded  so  bewitchingly  confidential: 

Listen,  listen ! 

If  thou  darest  — 

Yes,  if  thou  darest,  then  listen! 

suddenly,  with  passion: 

Oh,  would  that  I  had  a  silken  gown, 
A  white  one! 

The  young  people  were  transported  with 
ecstasy. 

Fru  Gyllenskjold  glanced  hastily  at  Fru  Tham- 
mers,  who  sat  there  in  silence,  apparently  uncon- 
scious of  the  significance  of  the  fact  that  Fru 


34  SANPRIEL 

Thamar  Gyllenskjold  had  shown  such  marked  at- 
tention to  a  new-comer. 

The  Dean's  wife  now  came  over  and  sat  down 
by  her  side.  While  her  husband,  with  his  robust 
nature,  never  could  conceive  of  any  one  going 
wrong,  and  therefore  preferred  to  discuss  such 
subjects  as  the  reclamation  of  bogs,  Fru  Hemb 
herself  always  liked  to  dwell  on  the  frailties  of 
human  nature.  She  possessed  an  unchangeable, 
unfailing  source  of  conversation.  She  felt  it  in- 
cumbent upon  her  to  give  all  mankind  good  ad- 
vice, the  supply  of  which  never  seemed  exhausted. 

She  thought  Fru  Thammers  was  too  pale. 

"  You  ought  to  drink  hot  water.  It  is  a  good 
thing  for  the  whole  system.  And  at  your  age  — 
it  is  so  healthful.  Perhaps  you  don't  understand 
what  I  mean." 

And  with  imperturbable  zeal  she  began  to  ex- 
plain her  meaning. 

Then  came  the  Dean's  sister.  She  also  wished 
to  be  friendly  with  Fru  Thammers.  She  was 
small,  thin  and  worried  looking.  After  many 
years'  experience  with  the  difficulties  of  life  she 
had  acquired  the  settled  conviction  that  nothing 
was  as  it  should  be.  All  her  sentences  ended  in 
a  depressed  "  but  " —  for  what  could  she  do  about 
it  anyway?  Now  she  thought  that  it  would  be 
so  much  pleasanter  for  Fru  Thammers  if  nature 
up  here  were  only  different.  If  they  could  only 


SANPRIEL  35 

grow  roses  here;  for  instance,  those  great,  double 
yellow,  velvet 

She  gazed  into  Fru  Thammers'  eyes  as  though 
she  would  gladly  go  through  fire  for  her  sake. 

Thora  Thammers  suddenly  rose.  Her  face 
was  colorless,  and  her  eyes  were  heavy  and  looked 
as  if  she  saw  nothing. 

"  I  must  go,"  she  said  softly.     "  Good  night." 

Fru  Gyllenskjold  nodded  blandly.  Then  as 
her  eyes  followed  her  she  nodded  again  as  if  in 
answer  to  her  own  thoughts.  The  Dean's  wife, 
although  she  was  so  benevolently  inclined,  could 
not  help  feeling  that  the  newcomer  seemed  some- 
what ungrateful. 


CHAPTER  II 

FRU  THAMMERS  remained  standing  for  a 
moment  on  the  steps.  At  first  it  seemed 
quite  dark,  coming  out  from  the  glare  of  light. 
Gradually  the  summer  evening  emerged  from  the 
shadows  of  the  mountains,  and  she  saw  the  out- 
line of  Flyen  against  the  sky,  silent  and  mysteri- 
ous.1 

She  found  a  little  path  leading  from  the  garden 
out  into  the  field.  Over  stock  and  stone  as  she 
stumbled  forward  in  the  twilight,  it  led  her  up 
toward  Flyen. 

"  If  I  can  only  find  my  way  back  again,"  she 
thought;  then  again  dully,  "What  does  it  mat- 
ter?" 

She  went  on  until  she  could  go  no  farther. 
Then  she  sat  down  among  the  heather. 

It  seemed  as  if  she  had  known  that  this  was 
the  very  spot  to  which  she  had  wished  to  come  — 
a  place  where  she  could  hide  away.  She  sat  there 
looking  around,  watching  that  mysterious  some- 
thing which  was  softly  rising  and  at  the  same  time 

1  The  reader  must  keep  in  mind  the  fact  that  this  is  in  Norway, 
the  land  of  the  midnight  sun,  where  the  summer  days  and  the 
twilight  as  well,  are  very  long,  and  the  nights  correspondingly 
short. 

36 


SANPRIEL  37 

growing  darker,  until  as  she  watched,  it  seemed 
to  close  in  about  her,  heavy  and  silent  as  the  slum- 
bering sea. 

Above,  the  heavens  were  full  of  great  white 
swans'  wings.  Far  out  to  the  north  lay  a  bit  of 
gold-flaming  cloud.  It  vanished  while  she  sat 
gazing  at  it.  Everything  grew  so  big  and  so  sol- 
emnly still.  The  wind  and  all  things  slept. 

She  sat  motionless.  She  thought  of  the  disci- 
ple who  knelt  on  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration 
and  prayed  that  he  might  make  his  dwelling-place 
there  in  the  light.  Here  in  the  dark  would  she 
pray  to  be  ...  to  breathe  out  her  soul  ...  to 
let  it  stream  out  over  the  wild  heath,  among  the 
silent,  sleeping  flowers  —  and  find  rest. 

She  continued  to  sit  there  silently,  as  if  she 
never  again  should  move  from  the  spot. 

There  came  a  faint  sound.  It  was  the  wind 
waking  up  in  the  forest.  It  whispered  among 
the  branches  and  began  to  tell  strange  things. 

She  shivered.  Was  it  cold?  The  air  was 
mild  and  soft,  and  all  the  earth  was  wrapped  in 
silence  —  all  except  the  little  breeze.  That  had 
begun  to  rustle  about  everywhere.  It  whisked 
forward,  it  whisked  back.  The  air  was  full  of 
it.  The  small  branches  swayed,  the  sleepy  little 
heather  blossoms  grew  big  and  opened  their  eyes. 
They  breathed  and  began  to  laugh  —  at  her. 


38  SANPRIEL 

A  fear  came  over  her.  Her  breathing  quick- 
ened. 

She  rose.     She  certainly  must  go  back. 

She  did  not  know  whether  she  was  following 
a  path  or  not,  or  where  she  was  going.  The 
dwarf  birches  seemed  suddenly  to  rise  up  and 
stand  there  moaning.  There  was  something 
moving  among  the  trees  and  branches.  It  sighed. 
It  stared  at  her  with  glittering  dark  eyes. 

She  hurried  on  without  looking  round. 

It  was  the  gloom  of  night  —  from  mountain 
and  hill  it  came  streaming,  a  flood  of  darkness. 
And  something  was  awake  ....  there  came  a 
stealthy  tread  behind  her  .  .  ,  .  the  mountain 
side  was  all  astir 

She  tried  to  hurry,  but  it  was  after  her  like 
a  sneaking  bloodhound.  She  could  hear  the  deep 
panting  behind  her 

She  stopped. 

There  she  stood  just  where  she  had  sat  before 
she  rose  to  go  home. 

Was  it  really  she?  Yes,  it  was  she,  afraid  of 
the  dark,  distracted  and  half  insane. 

How  they  would  laugh  at  her,  the  children,  her 
clever,  practical  daughter!  How  amusing  it 
would  be  to  them  all  to  know  that  she,  an  old 
woman,  was  afraid,  of  what?  of  the  wind,  or  the 
heather? 


SANPRIEL  39 

She  sat  down  again  in  order  to  calm  herself. 
She  caught  sight  of  a  lamp  just  lighted  in  a  little 
cabin,  the  outline  of  which  she  could  barely  see. 
Her  fear  was  gone.  She  felt  only  an  unspeakable 
scorn  for  herself. 

They  were  singing  hymns  down  there.  The 
wind  carried  the  notes  away,  then  wafted  them 
back  again.  A  woman's  voice  rose  like  a  white 
dove  through  the  silence,  followed  by  that  of  a 
man,  heavy  and  strong,  resting  on  earth. 

They  were  the  old  hymns: 

In  Jesus'  name  shall  all  our  work  be  done, 

and 

Jesus,  thy  memory  .  .  . 

Strong  and  tender,  full  of  faith,  insistent  in  their 
call,  the  words  came  to  her  like  a  rebuke. 

Had  they  not  followed  her  through  childhood, 
borne  her  up  as  on  strong  arms,  filled  her  with 
hope? 

Now  they  come  to  her  again  with  heavy,  sol- 
emn tread,  and  looking  deep  into  her  heart  they 
ask:  "  What  have  you  done  to  yourself  that  we 
can  no  longer  give  you  peace?  Where  are  you? 
Once  long  ago  we  carried  you  in  our  arms." 

The  past  rose  up  before  her.  The  tender  long- 
ings of  childhood,  the  sweet  intangible  dreams  of 
early  youth.  She  was  filled  with  awe  and  an 


40  SANPRIEL 

oppressive  sense  of  humiliation,  as  she  thought 
of  the  self  she  had  been,  and  of  what  she  had  since 
become. 

She  wept  softly. 

Suddenly  she  drew  herself  together  as  she  heard 
some  one  coming.  She  looked  up  surprised,  for 
this  time  it  really  was  some  one  who  stood  there 
before  her. 

It  was  a  woman,  small  —  but  as  she  looked 
again  she  seemed  large.  There  was  about  her 
an  air  of  majesty  that  seemed  not  of  this  earth, 
but  as  if  she  had  come  from  far  away.  And  the 
eyes  —  they  looked  into  hers  with  unspeakable 
mildness.  They  understood. 

Thora  Thammers  rose  and  grasped  the  out- 
stretched hand.  There  was  something  soothing 
in  the  soft,  firm  touch,  and  at  the  sound  of  the 
voice  something  that  had  long  been  dead  within 
her  rose  to  life  again.  She  followed  her  along 
the  path,  feeling  that  she  could  follow  her  to  the 
ends  of  the  earth,  and  farther  —  even  into  the 
heavenly  land  beyond. 

At  the  entrance  to  the  garden  they  paused  with 
a  soft  good-night.  Thora  Thammers  held  her 
hand,  wishing  that  she  would  speak. 

From  the  hallway  flashed  a  gleam  of  light.  It 
fell  on  the  stranger  like  a  halo  of  glory  and  re- 
vealed a  graceful  figure  simply  clad,  and  a  pale, 
worn  face  full  of  expression. 


SANPRIEL  41 

Thora  stood  for  a  moment  without  letting  go 
her  hand.  As  she  looked  into  her  eyes  something 
from  an  unknown  world  met  her  in  that  glance. 

She  wanted  to  cry  out:  "  Do  not  let  me  go. 
Take  me  with  you  into  your  world  of  peace." 

She  stood  like  a  helpless  child  as  she  felt  the 
tears  rising.  With  an  effort  she  controlled  her- 
self, bowed  reverently  and  whispered: 

"  Thank  you." 

On  the  steps  she  met  Barbo,  the  housemaid, 
who  was  greatly  frightened  at  her  being  out  so 
late. 

She  asked  Barbo  about  the  strange  lady.  She 
was  called  Madame  Harder.  She  lived  down 
there  alone  with  her  maid  in  a  little  house  near 
the  hotel.  There  was  a  sick  man  in  a  cabin  just 
below  Flyen  who  had  been  frightened  out  of  his 
wits  by  some  traveling  preachers,  and  no  one  had 
been  able  to  stop  them  until  Madame  Harder 
went  up.  Since  then  they  hadn't  dared  show 
themselves,  for  she  went  up  there  every  single  day. 
And  the  man  was  in  his  right  mind  again  and  the 
doctor  thought  he  would  get  well. 

Late  that  night  when  Thora  Thammers  fell 
asleep,  there  came  to  her  a  presence  with  calm, 
bright  eyes,  and  the  room  was  filled  with  peace. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A  FEW  days  later,  just  after  luncheon,  it  was 
quite  lively  in  the  big  parlor.  All  the  guests 
were  indoors  because  it  was  raining.  Most  of 
them  were  in  a  sociable  mood. 

In  the  corner  by  the  door  sat  a  number  of  young 
women  all  talking  at  once.  They  had  withdrawn 
from  the  rest  purposely.  They  didn't  want  to 
be  too  near  Fru  Thamar  Gyllenskjold,  because 
they  didn't  like  the  side  glances  that  she  occasion- 
ally cast  in  their  direction.  Each  one  of  them, 
in  a  spirit  of  independence,  had  developed  her 
own  peculiar  variety  of  slang.  They  wanted  to 
express  themselves  more  originally  than  the  tire- 
some old  cultured  people  of  the  preceding  genera- 
tion. 

Among  them  were  students  who  were  doing 
graduate  work,  and  some  young  primary  school 
teachers  who  had  a  tendency  to  look  upon  hu- 
manity as  a  kindergarten  placed  under  their  super- 
vision. 

Some  very  young  ladies  had  surrounded  a  little 
lawyer.  They  wanted  to  know  what  certain  gen- 
tlemen in  Molde  did  with  themselves  on  Sunday 
—  yes,  on  Sunday  in  particular.  They  would  be 

4* 


SANPRIEL  43 

so  charmed  to  meet  anyone  from  Molde.  The 
little  lawyer  was  certainly  not  from  Molde,  but 
he  forgot  to  state  that. 

A  short  distance  away  sat  Fru  Liss  in  her  red 
velvet  gown.  The  lawyer  sat  looking  at  her 
hands,  delicate  little  cat's  paws  with  skin  almond- 
white,  soft  and  clear,  as  if  they  had  just  come  into 
existence,  and  were  for  the  first  time  busied  with 
something  —  for  just  at  that  moment  they  were 
tearing  to  bits  the  nosegay  of  rare  flowers  that  he 
had  brought  her. 

He  had  no  need  to  be  offended,  for  it  was 
merely  a  habit  of  hers,  the  result  of  a  mild  little 
taste  for  destruction.  At  times  it  was  absolutely 
necessary  for  her  to  tear  things  to  pieces  and  then 
get  up  and  stamp  on  them.  Then  when  she  had 
done  so,  she  would  look  up  in  the  most  bewitching 
way  and  say: 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  sorry,  but  I  just  had  to  do  it." 

Anyway,  she  was  angry  just  at  that  moment, 
and  it  was  quite  becoming  to  her.  Her  whole 
face  took  on  an  expression  of  soulfulness.  Her 
voice  became  fuller,  with  a  trembling  note  which 
contributed  greatly  toward  establishing  her  cause. 

It  was  Froken  Hemb  who  had  opposed  her. 

Froken  Hemb  thought  that  the  world  was  all 
wrong.  It  was  a  sin  that  so  many  human  beings 
were  in  need. 

Fru  Liss  was  convinced  that  everything  in  the 


44  SANPRIEL 

world  was  done  in  the  best  possible  way,  and  all 
this  want  and  misery  —  she  was  sure  that  it  would 
be  remedied. 

Captain  Spohr  agreed  with  her. 

He  sat  looking  at  her  as  she  talked,  thinking 
that  her  mouth,  with  its  Cupid's  bow,  was  the  most 
deadly  weapon  he  had  ever  faced.  And  he 
didn't  like  to  hear  about  the  misfortunes  and  evils 
of  this  world  either.  He  didn't  think  people 
were  so  badly  off. 

Fru  Liss  looked  at  Froken  Hemb  with  a  certain 
scorn. 

"  According  to  that  there  would  certainly  be 
no  pleasure  in  existence,  for " 

And  she  turned  to  the  Captain,  who  for  the 
moment  was  ready  to  take  up  arms  in  defense  of 
humanity  against  Froken  Hemb,  whose  little  trou- 
bled face  was  certainly  of  no  advantage  to  her. 

With  her  feet  on  a  footstool  which  Merchant 
Stern  had  covered  with  the  skin  of  a  pampas  cat, 
sat  Fru  Thamar  Gyllenskjold. 

She  smiled  with  her  soft-doe  eyes  and  looked 
very  good-natured.  She  was  slightly  chilly  and 
admired  the  beautiful  silver-gray  fur  with  the 
rust-red  stripes.  To-day  she  felt  that  she  must 
pay  some  attention  to  Omar  Pasha.  He  sat  at 
her  feet  beside  the  hearth  and  seemed  in  excellent 
spirits.  She  had  never  seen  him  more  so.  She 
looked  at  the  fine,  beardless  mouth,  with  the  deep, 


SANPRIEL  45 

heavily  marked  lines  which  gave  to  the  face  an 
expression  of  sensitiveness  she  never  before  had 
seen  in  a  man.  Yet  the  eyes  told  a  different  story. 
They  looked  so  somber  as  they  lay  there  shaded 
by  the  long  lashes  and  the  heavy,  projecting  eye- 
brows. There  was  a  hard  light  in  them. 

For  that  matter,  to-day  he  was  utterly  impossi- 
ble. He  heard  everything  that  was  said  and 
scattered  his  own  remarks  right  and  left.  No 
one  was  safe.  The  ladies  had  a  certain  fear  of 
him,  but  when  he  was  absent  they  missed  him  more 
than  they  feared  him  when  he  was  present. 

Thora  Thammers  sat  alone  in  the  farthest  cor- 
ner, turning  over  some  engravings. 

There  were  two  people  at  Forest  Home  whom 
Fru  Gyllenskjold  had  no  desire  to  bring  together. 
One  of  them  was  Fru  Thammers. 

She  was  suspicious  of  her.  She  would  like  to 
be  kind  to  all,  but  they  must  not  stand  in  her  way. 
They  must  listen  to  her,  and  at  the  same  time 
keep  their  distance.  They  must  not  obstruct  the 
view.  On  the  whole  she  was  not  sure  but  that 
ladies  required  too  much  attention.  It  almost 
seemed  as  if  some  of  them  wanted  her  place. 
Therefore  she  did  not  see  Fru  Thammers  to-day; 
but  otherwise  she  sat  there  placidly  enough  in  her 
role  of  sovereign  princess,  smiling  her  long,  sinu- 
ous smile  as  she  listened  to  Omar  Pasha. 

On  this  particular  day,  since  they  were  both  in 


46  SANPRIEL 

such  good  humor,  they  were  easily  amused,  even 
by  Fru  Iversen's  silk-lined  gown,  which  gave  Omar 
Pasha  a  special  opportunity  to  scoff  at  the  ladies, 
poor  things.  He  hoped,  at  least,  that  she  would 
agree  with  him  that  the  elegance  which  one  could 
obtain  by  producing  a  sound  which  reminded  one 
of  a  rattlesnake  was,  after  all,  a  very  plebeian 
substitute  for  the  real  thing  which,  by  its  very  na- 
ture, was  noiseless.  Were  not  the  silks  of  the 
old  days  heavy,  and  soft,  and  pliable? 

She  sat  listening  to  him,  patiently  indulgent,  as 
she  played  with  the  silken  ears  of  the  Princess 
Leyla. 

Then  she  tapped  him  with  her  foot. 

"  Omar  Pasha  is  the  knight  of  the  white  cloud, 
of  the  moon,  and  of  the  night  wind,  but  not  of 
the  earth,  that  he  should  take  things  so  seriously, 
like  the  Adjunct  when  he  teaches  us  the  rules  for 
the  logical  comma." 

"  I  beg  permission  to  correct  your  statement, 
Your  Majesty.  I  look  upon  my  position  in  an 
entirely  different  way.  There  is  a  certain  spe- 
cies of  ants  that  has  an  instinct  for  keeping  house- 
slaves.  You  have  that  same  instinct,  most  pow- 
erful lady.  The  Adjunct  and  I  are  merely  your 
house-slaves.  Are  you  still  cold?  Are  you  com- 
fortable?" 

"  Very  comfortable,  but  such  far-fetched  com- 
parisons bore  me." 


SANPRIEL  47 

"  It  is  all  a  part  of  the  divine  plan.  I  think 
matters  are  very  nicely  arranged,  since  in  that  way 
a  very  tedious  life  is  shortened  somewhat.  One 
ought  to  be  thankful  for  that." 

"  What  a  peculiar  being  you  are.  I  am  con- 
vinced that  you  believe  in  nothing." 

"  In  everything  possible,  almost  —  in  the  wind 
and  the  weather,  the  sun  and  the  moon,  and  the 
Bergegubbe  1  —  and  I  find  myself  quite  in  har- 
mony with  it  all." 

She  laughed  and  shook  her  head. 

"  We'll  not  bother  about  these  things  that  we 
don't  understand.  Tell  us,  rather,  what  you  think 
of  those  learned  gentlemen  over  there.  Have 
you  also  shares  in  this  telegraph  line  to  Mars, 
or  is  it  Venus?  Is  there  not  an  astronomer  who 
thinks  he  has  observed  signals  from  there? 
What  do  they  want  of  us? 

"  There  comes  my  amiable  new  neighbor,  Betsey 
Schaum,  journalist  and  author.  You  ought  to 
congratulate  her,  and  the  rest  of  us,  too,  for  that 
matter,  on  our  acquisition  of  the  right  to  vote. 
You  haven't  done  so  yet." 

Betsey  Schaum  denied  most  eloquently  and  vig- 
orously being  among  those  who  swelled  the  num- 
ber of  lady  authors. 

That  would  be  doing  her  an  injustice.  If  there 
was  any  one  thing  for  which  she  deserved  credit, 

1  Mountain   gnomes,   creatures   of   Norwegian    folklore. 


48  SANPRIEL 

it  was  for  having  lessened  their  number.  This 
was  indeed  a  secret  —  except  in  newspaper  cir- 
cles, where  she  had  the  reputation  of  being  a  reg- 
ular executioner  —  since  she  hid  her  bloodthirsti- 
ness  under  a  modest  little  pen-name;  and  more- 
over, her  voice  as  well  as  her  whole  person  gave 
the  impression  of  a  mild  and  harmless  creature. 

But  no  one  heard  her  vigorous  protestations. 

Some  of  the  ladies  in  fact  had  begun  to  discuss 
the  suffrage  question  with  Omar  Pasha.  , 

Then  the  Adjunct  became  excited.  He  had 
heard  that  in  Sweden  they  had  gone  to  the  most 
absurd  extreme,  that  a  woman  could  have  as  many 
as  a  hundred  votes,  a  fact  which  he  immediately 
attributed  to  the  intellectual  weakness  of  the 
times. 

Fru  Gyllenskjold  paid  no  attention  to  him,  so 
he  had  to  address  himself  to  Dean  Hemb. 

Omar  Pasha  took  it  quietly.  He  sat  watching 
them  and  laughing  with  those  gleaming  dark 
strips  which  at  times  took  the  place  of  eyes. 

"  What  do  the  honorable  ladies  want  with 
more  rights?  They  have  certainly  never  made 
use  of  those  that  they  have.  And  what  can  they 
do  in  the  legislative  assembly  so  long  as  they  can- 
not improve  the  laws  that  .they  themselves  have 
made?" 

Fru  Gyllenskjold  leaned  comfortably  back, 
drawing  the  fur  closer  about  her  feet. 


SANPRIEL  49 

This  was  just  what  she  liked,  to  sit  here  in  quiet, 
listening  to  the  others.  It  amused  her  to  see  so 
many  of  the  ladies  looking  so  irritated.  Princess 
Leyla  lay  in  her  lap  gazing  about  with  innocent, 
wondering  eyes,  which  seemed  to  scent  danger. 
For  at  least  ten  ladies  came  up  demanding  an  ex- 
planation from  Omar  Pasha. 

He  laughingly  put  his  hands  to  his  ears. 

"  What  laws?  I  mean,  of  course,  social  laws. 
Let  us  call  them  custom,  habit,  etiquette,  what  you 
will.  When  it  comes  to  the  point,  it  is  after  all 
the  women  who  make  them,  and  it  is  the  women 
who  have  the  power  to  improve  them,  and  through 
them,  society;  but  they  never  have  done  so.  So 
long  as  it  does  not  occur  to  their  sensible  little 
hearts  that  anything  there  needs  setting  to  rights, 
so  long  ought  we  to  be  forgiven  if  we  do  not  feel 
the  need  of  their  help,  for  just  so  long  they  can- 
not give  us  what  we  need." 

The  ladies  were  accustomed  to  Omar  Pasha's 
atrocious  remarks,  but  this  sounded  formidable, 
as  if  there  were  some  meaning  in  it.  So  they 
could  not  let  it  pass. 

Fru  Iversen  came  up  with  a  speed  and  a  silken 
rustle  that  reminded  one  of  a  rattlesnake. 

"  Oh,  you  horrible  Omar  Pasha!  You  really 
mean  then " 

She   looked   helplessly   at   Fru   Sanders,    who 


50  SANPRIEL 

raised  her  lorgnette  and  gazed  at  him  with  a  super- 
cilious smile. 

"  I  should  like  to  know  what  it  is  you  really 
want.  Just  as  if  what  the  men  do  is  so  wonder- 
ful! Do  you  mean  that  they  can  manage  every- 
thing alone,  the  whole  thing?  " 

"Your  Highness!  We  are  very  desirous  that 
the  women  should  join  us,  for  our  sake  as  well  as 
for  the  sake  of  the  work  that  has  been  left  un- 
done; but  we  want  them  to  come,  as  a  Swedish 
author  expresses  it,  arrayed  in  all  the  natural 
beauty  of  their  sex.  That  is  what  we  want.  My 
shoemaker  is  a  sensible  man.  He  says,  woman 
lacks  in  consciousness  of  self.  It  is  her  duty  to 
teach  every  man  to  respect  her,  but  she  does  not 
do  so.  Therefore  I  think  we  ought  to  be  for- 
given if  we  do  not  esteem  her  intelligence  suffi- 
ciently. It  is  remarkable  what  importance  can 
be  attached  to  a  trifle  when  once  a  precedent  has 
been  established,  especially  by  women,  and  in  par- 
ticular by  married  women.  The  other  day  when 
Fru  Sanders  was  entertaining,  I  happened  to  no- 
tice accidentally  the  different  degrees  of  courtesy 
the  women  showed  to  married  and  unmarried 
women.  Now  we  men  think  such  things  are  ab- 
surd. Of  course  we  do  the  same  thing,  but  it  is 
according  to  orders.  We  have  been  so  well 
taught  by  you  ladies.  For  my  part  I  think  there 
is  good  reason  to  doubt  that  women  are  rational 


SANPRIEL  51 

beings,  so  long  as  they  cannot  comprehend  that  in 
such  ways  as  this  they  are  first  of  all  insulting 
their  own  womanhood.  Excuse  me,  ladies,  but  it 
was  not  I  who  began  this.  Remember,  it  was 
not  I." 

Some  of  the  ladies  began  making  preparations 
to  annihilate  Omar  Pasha. 

But  now  Fru  Gyllenskjold  raised  her  long,  slen- 
der hand,  and  the  others  restrained  themselves. 

"  It  seems  to  me  you  are  making  a  great  dis- 
turbance here  on  earth,  Omar  Pasha.  You  are 
prone  to  evil;  now  I  perceive  it.  You  are  worse 
than  Nero  or  your  twin-brother,  Ivan  the  Terri- 
ble, for  you  never  waver;  you  never  have  any 
access  of  mercy,  and  fortune  favors  you.  Just 
see,  how  unhappy  we  look!  You  storm  about  in 
our  little  world  like  a  tiger  in  his  lair.  Yester- 
day you  freed  a  wasp  from  the  clutches  of  an  hon- 
est spider;  you  could  not  even  pull  the  wings  off 
from  a  fly  —  and  now  you  sit  here  amusing  your- 
self at  our  expense." 

She  looked  smilingly  about. 

"  Over  there  sits  Fru  Altor,  a  lady  who  in  times 
past  has  been  at  court,  and  who  now  gives  tone 
to  the  village  which  has  the  honor  of  being  her 
place  of  residence.  She  has  asked  you  ten  times 
if  you  do  not  know  that  what  you  call  our  social 
laws  are  but  emanations  from  a  higher  source, 
from  our  court  etiquette  which  presumably  is 


52  SANPRIEL 

above  your  criticism.  Will  it  please  you  to  an- 
swer her?  " 

"  Your  humble  servant,  lady,  has  only  to  add 
that  the  entire  system  of  European  court  etiquette 
is  based  on  the  relics  of  ancient  Oriental  barba- 
rism. It  is  servility  which  forms  the  basis  of  the 
system.  It  was  Henry  the  Third  of  France  who 
had  the  honor  of  introducing  this  system  into  Eu- 
rope, and  of  changing  his  associates  from  friends 
to  servants.  And  is  not  this  a  proof  of  our  close 
kinship  to  the  apes,  this  thoughtless  imitation  of 
an  effort  to  build  up  artificial  barriers,  instead  of 
reverently  respecting  the  real  laws,  those  of  na- 
ture?" 

Fru  Altor  could  not  find  words  immediately. 
The  muscles  of  her  face  quivered.  She  limited 
herself  to  the  remark  that  she  thought  the  world 
was  becoming  very  strange. 

"Yes,  I  think  so  myself,  Fru  Altor;  and  the 
strangest  thing  of  all  is  just  this,  that  the  beau- 
monde  of  our  time  find  so  well  suited  to  them- 
selves the  very  customs  that  were  in  vogue  in  far- 
distant  barbaric  times.  Does  not  this  show  the 
real  foundation  of  our  culture?  Under  cover  of 
what  one  calls  '  good  tone  '  are  instituted  some 
very  remarkable  things." 

Fru  Liss  sent  him  a  glance  from  her  great, 
wide-open  eyes. 

"  Well,  I  must  say,  Herr  Ivan  the  Terrible ! 


SANPRIEL  53 

Indeed,  we  certainly  are  enjoying  ourselves !  We 
are  quite  carried  away.  It  is  particularly  delight- 
ful when  men  talk  this  way  —  indeed  I  think  it 
is  amusing  because  it  is  so  terrible  to  hear  you! 
I  and  quantities  of  my  friends  are  entirely  agreed 

upon  this,  that yes,  you  horrid  thing  you  — 

all  this  that  we  consider  good  form,  you  posi- 
tively think  it  beastly?  " 

"  That  would  be  doing  an  injustice  to  the  other 
beasts;  they  in  fact  have  never  sunk  so  low.  Now 
I  really  think  I  had  better  take  my  leave." 

At  this  moment  his  wife,  Fru  von  Asten,  came 
to  the  rescue. 

"  Samuel,  I  have  no  idea  what  you  mean,  Sam- 
uel." 

Merchant  Stern  did  not  look  at  all  surprised. 
Fru  von  Asten  always  began  that  way  when  she 
said  anything  to  her  husband.  It  had  become 
a  habit  with  her. 

She  threw  back  her  pretty  little  head,  and  the 
bright  eyes,  which  at  first  had  looked  so  mild,  be- 
gan to  take  on  an  expression  of  irritation. 

"I  believe  you  think  you  are  a  superman!" 
It  came  out  quickly  and  decidedly. 

"  Dear  Annie,  you  mustn't  apply  that  expres- 
sion to  any  one  unless  you  wish  to  insult  him. 
That  is,  for  the  time  being,  our  most  correct  term 
of  abuse.  The  fact  is,  my  dear  ladies,  we  have 
made  a  serious  attempt  to  originate  the  super- 


54  SANPRIEL 

man,  but  a  new  species  of  plebeian  has  been  the 
result." 

Fru  Gyllenskjold  again  raised  a  warning  finger. 

"  Shall  we  not  light  the  pipe  of  peace?  " 

She  looked  smilingly  about. 

"  Would  it  not  be  easier  to  control  the  winds 
of  heaven  than  to  bring  a  man  within  the  bounds 
of  reason  when  he  is  outside?  I  think  that  he 
also  is  one  of  the  forces  of  nature  that  must  be 
overcome.  Man  did  not  bring  the  earth  into 
subjection  sufficiently  before  installing  himself  in 
his  own  position.  For  the  present,  therefore,  he 
also  belongs  to  the  class  of  wild  animals." 

"  Quite  right,  Madame,  the  instincts  of  a  for- 
mer period  are  still  in  our  blood  —  but  I  see  that 
it  has  stopped  raining.  Ya  Allah,  ya  Allah  !  God 
is  great!  and  I  think  I'll  go." 

The  sun  was  indeed  shining  brightly  outside. 

Thora  Thammers  rose,  closed  the  album  and 
also  went  out.  Her  daughter  followed  her  to  the 
steps. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Mamma?  It  is  so 
annoying  that  you  make  no  effort  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  the  others,  but  go  around  alone  all 
the  time.  Birger  thinks  so,  too,  that  it  would  be 
much  pleasanter  for  us  if  you  would  sit  inside 
more  and  make  yourself  comfortable  with  the  old 
folks.  I  am  sure  everyone  thinks  it  strange. 
People  think  you  are  very  queer,  and  it  is  so  an- 


SANPRIEL  55 

noying  for  Birger  and  me.  Yes,  I  know, 
Mamma,  you  think  we  ought  not  to  care  —  you 
are  really  clever  about  it  —  but  we'll  just  have  to, 
Birger  and  I,  we'll  just  have  to  tell  the  young 
people,  that  we  can't " 

Fru  Thammers  stood  looking  at  her  daughter. 

"Do  you  and  Birger  forbid  my  going  out?" 
she  asked  quietly. 

"  Mamma,  you  certainly  are  a  romantic  old 
thing;  yes,  Birger  thinks  so,  too.  Old  people 
never  do  understand  the  feelings  of  young  folks. 
We  know  very  well  that  you  think  that  we  run 
around  too  much  with  the  young  people  —  but 
then  really  we  are  not  the  only  ones  —  It  is  be- 
cause young  people  have  to  live  their  own  lives. 
Froken  Carn  —  she  is  the  leader  of  all  the  stu- 
dents here  this  year  —  she  says :  '  I  have  a  right 
to  do  just  as  I  please  in  vacation.'  She  is  un- 
commonly daring  and  free  in  her  nature.  Now 
her  mother  has  some  trouble  in  her  knee,  and  she 
is  glad  of  it,  because  she  has  to  keep  quiet.  Oth- 
erwise she  would  want  to  go  with  her  everywhere 
and  that  is  such  a  nuisance.  Froken  Carn  says : 
'  A  mother  ought  to  do  everything  for  her  children, 
but  the  children  really  owe  nothing  to  their  par- 
ents. It  is  the  parents  who  are  under  obligation 
to  us.  They  must  take  the  consequences  of  hav- 
ing brought  us  into  the  world.  It  will  be  our 
turn  afterward  when  we  have  children.'  " 


56  SANPRIEL 

She  stopped  as  she  looked  at  her  mother.  She 
cast  her  eyes  down,  blushing  over  what  she  had 
just  said,  for  her  mother  suddenly  stood  before 
her,  not  with  her  usual  submissive  air,  but  tall 
and  erect. 

She  stood  for  a  moment  in  silence,  looking  at 
her  daughter.  Again  Gertrude  lowered  her  gaze, 
for  when  her  mother  spoke  it  was  not  in  her  or- 
dinary manner. 

"  I  know  indeed,"  she  said  slowly,  "  that  you 
and  your  aunt  have  begun  to  think  that  my  mind 
is  not  quite  balanced  —  not  another  word.  You 
and  Birger  may  amuse  yourselves  as  you  please, 
but  you  must  forgive  me  if  I  do  not  stay  indoors 
just  because  you  two  wish  it." 

"  Mamma,  you  do  misunderstand  us  so  out- 
rageously! Now  let  me  stay  with  you — " 

Fru  Thammers  smiled  sadly,  but  did  not  accept 
the  offer. 

Something  had  crept  into  her  voice  which  set 
her  daughter  off  at  a  distance  of  which  she  had 
never  before  been  conscious.  She  stood  there 
gazing  after  her  mother. 

Certainly  both  she  and  her  aunt  and  Birger 
thought  —  and  she  was  sure  that  almost  everyone 
up  here  thought  the  same  thing  .  .  .  for  she  cer- 
tainly was  not  like  other  people  ...  It  was  a 
nuisance  that  she  had  noticed  .  .  .  but  she  really 
had  no  right  to  feel  hurt  .  .  .  and  yet  how  grand 


SANPRIEL  57 

Mamma  could  be  when  she  wanted  to!  Uncle 
had  noticed  it  at  different  times,  and  he  had  al- 
ways said  that  there  was  good  blood  in  her. 

Froken  Carn  and  some  gentlemen  came  along 
just  then.  They  wanted  Gertrude  to  go  with 
them  for  a  walk. 


CHAPTER  IV 

FRU  THAMMERS  went  up  to  her  room. 
Taking  a  light  wrap  she  came  down  again 
and  took  the  path  toward  Flyen. 

She  felt  it  a  relief  to  get  away  from  all  those 
human  voices.  The  air  down  there  seemed  full 
of  them,  and  of  little  troublesome  thoughts  and 
bother  about  nothing. 

Here  she  could  breathe  freely.  Moreover, 
there  was  something  she  must  do.  She  had  long 
had  the  feeling  that  some  day  she  would  say  to 
herself:  "Now  I  will  look  about  to  see  what 
it  really  is  that  I  have  been  doing."  And  there 
had  come  to  her  this  very  day  a  curious  desire  to 
rummage  about  in  her  mental  affairs  and  find  out 
where  she  stood. 

She  would  like  to  tell  the  whole  thing  here,  to 
the  wild  creatures  and  the  flowers,  so  they  might 
judge  her.  There  was  no  human  being  in  whom 
she  could  confide. 

She  thought  for  a  moment  of  the  man  who  had 
been  talking  down  below.  Even  that  first  even- 
ing something  had  stirred  within  her  at  the  sound 
of  that  voice ;  why,  she  did  not  know,  only  that  it 
reminded  her  of  the  long  forgotten  past,  of  some- 


SANPRIEL  59 

thing  suffered  and  ended  which  she  did  not  care 
to  experience  again. 

She  walked  slowly. 

A  hare  sat  peering  at  her  with  placid,  innocent 
eyes.  Her  foot  almost  touched  it  before  it  sprang 
away. 

"  You  need  not  be  afraid  of  me,"  she  mur- 
mured, with  a  faint  smile.  "  Then  I  will  take 
your  place." 

She  sat  down.  Here  indeed  everything  was 
close  about  her.  Here  stood  the  dwarf  birch  and 
the  juniper,  the  heather  and  the  silver-white  wil- 
low. How  they  beamed  now  that  the  sun  had 
come! 

Yes,  she  would  tell  it.  She  could  say  it  to 
them.  People  would  think  it  was  because  her 
mind  was  not  quite  right.  She  could  not  help 
laughing.  It  was  on  the  contrary  just  because 
she  was  rational. 

It  was  something  to  be  thankful  for  that  the 
fine  people  down  there  thought  there  was  nothing 
interesting  up  on  Flyen,  for  she  could  have  peace 
here,  she  and  the  little  wild  creatures. 

How  vast  and  still  it  is  to-day!  Only  the 
breeze  comes  gliding  by  on  broad,  noiseless  wings, 
as  if  it  were  all  alone  under  the  heavens.  She 
hears  its  whispering  voice.  Every  living  thing 
among  the  thousand  hillocks  knows  it.  It  slips 
away  through  the  heather,  hides  and  dozes,  wakes 


60  SANPRIEL 

again,  steals  into  the  hearts  of  the  little  flowers 
and  sets  them  trembling. 

"  I  can  tell  it  to  you,"  she  murmured  half  aloud, 
"  for  you  are  not  like  the  others." 

She  lay  down  among  the  heather;  she  was  so 
tired. 

She  hid  her  face. 

Not  that,  no,  not  that  which  now  seemed 

to  come  before  her  like  a  horrible  ogre-tale  which 
some  one  once  had  told  her.  For  she  had  forgot- 
ten it,  or  God  had  saved  her  from  it.  She  had 
just  reached  the  point  where  there  was  a  little 
comfort  in  thinking  that  all  that  was  ended. 

She  half  rose,  supporting  her  head  on  her  hand. 

But  how  did  it  happen  that  she  became  that 

man's  wife?  She  saw  him  before  her,  Colonel 
Arvid  Thammers,  indolent,  self-satisfied,  fat,  bald- 
headed.  She  looked  at  him  in  cold  wonderment. 
Was  it  he?  Was  it  in  association  with  her  that 
he  had  become  such? 

She  shuddered  at  the  thought 

She  closed  her  eyes  —  there  he  stood  before  her 
as  he  once  was,  the  handsomest  man  she  had  ever 
seen.  With  his  sweet,  troubadour  voice  he  had 
sung  himself  into  her  heart.  His  passionate  dark 
eyes  had  taken  her  fancy.  She  had  thought  there 
was  so  much  expression  in  them. 

And  her  aunt  had  said  that  it  was  the  usual 
thing  for  a  young  girl's  dreams  to  be  shattered. 


SANPRIEL  6 1 

She  must  not  think  that  she  was  the  only  one  to 
whom  such  things  happened,  but  that  time  would 
make  it  all  right.  She  must  think  of  the  realities 
of  life.  It  was  there  that  happiness  lay. 

So  she  herself  had  thought  that  Arvid  Tham- 
mers  must  indeed  be  the  one.  It  could  not  be 
otherwise.  .  .  .  And  it  would  all  come  later,  all 
that  she  was  looking  for.  It  didn't  matter  so  long 
as  there  was  so  much  to  come  afterward.  It  was 
always  that  way,  they  all  said  together.  They 
certainly  knew  best.  .  .  .  But  she  thought  so  too, 
that  it  was  best  to  hurry  up  and  have  it  all  settled. 
She  had  been  so  afraid.  It  seemed  to  her  that 
she  had  stood  on  the  edge  of  a  precipice,  but  had 
been  saved  in  some  miraculous  way.  .  .  .  She 
didn't  want  to  suffer.  Why  should  she?  She  was 
only  eighteen.  She  wanted  to  enjoy  life  to  the 
full 

She  could  not  bear  to  think  of  it  any  longer. 
Again  she  lay  down  in  the  heather. 

A  fear  came  upon  her  that  she  was  getting  too 
close  to  the  sore  spots  in  her  soul.  She  knew  of 
something  there,  a  dumb,  hidden  horror,  behind 
the  dark  door  which  led  into  the  land  of  despair. 
Yes,  she  had  stood  there  and  listened,  to  learn  if 
there  was  any  message  for  her.  There  had  been 
times  when  she  could  find  no  peace,  when  it  had 
seemed  to  her  that  nothing  of  all  this  that  she  had 
lived  could  be  true;  that  it  could  not  be  possible 


62  SANPRIEL 

that  Arvid  Thammers  was  her  husband,  and  she 
the  mother  of  the  two  children  who  were  not  really 
hers,  who  never  looked  at  anything  with  her  eyes 
or  listened  to  anything  with  her  ears. 

She  put  her  hands  up  to  her  face  as  if  to  shield 
herself  from  something.  For  many  years  now 
she  had  completely  forgotten  that  she  had  ever 
loved  her  husband  —  but  she  had.  There  was 
no  doubt  about  that ! 

She  had  waited  so  anxiously  at  first,  for  in  her 
heart  was  hidden  a  kingly  castle.  It  was  for  him, 
but  he  must  find  it  himself  —  he  must  win  his  way 
to  it. 

But  Arvid  never  came.  He  thought  that  he 
possessed  all,  that  there  was  nothing  more. 

Then  it  was  that  the  door  was  locked,  and  he 
didn't  notice  that  either.  So  she  thought  that 
some  time  there  would  be  a  great  scene,  and  mat- 
ters would  be  improved.  But  Arvid  had  no  de- 
sire for  a  scene.  He  knew  perfectly  well  that  she 
would  like  to  have  him  different  from  what  he 
was,  but  he  let  it  go  as  if  he  had  noticed  nothing. 
He  was  always  in  a  good  humor,  continually  laugh- 
ing and  showing  his  strong  white  teeth.  Serious 
matters  never  made  any  impression  upon  him. 

But  what  is  the  use  of  lying  here  thinking  about 
all  this? 

She  lay  staring  up  into  the  sky.     Again  she  felt 


SANPRIEL  63 

that  terrible  depression.  She  must  talk  it  over 
with  some  one. 

"  Listen,  heather  bloom,  little  bell,  I  will  tell  it 
to  you,  so  that  you  may  know  what  I  am  ...  so 
that  you  may  not  think  too  well  of  me  .  .  .  and 
so  that  you  may  be  kind  to  me  when  I  come  up 
here." 

She  grew  strangely  excited.  She  must  tell  it. 
She  could  not  get  away  from  it.  With  a  faint, 
sad  smile  she  lay  there  murmuring  to  herself: 

"  For  I  was  young  .  .  .  and  there  came  a  fear 
which  consumed  me,  that  it  might  never  be  differ- 
ent. Then  there  came  a  hunger  for  another  life, 

different  from  the  one  I  was  living 1  began 

to  dream.  ...  I  thought  that  what  I  was  dream- 
ing was  more  than  what  I  was  living  ...  so  I 
went  one  evening  to  Arvid  and  said  that  I 
was  beginning  to  forget  him  .  .  .  and  I  was 
afraid  

"  But  Arvid  laughed.  '  It  is  no  matter  to  me 
what  you  dream.'  '  But  what  if  it  were  not  a 
dream  .  .  .  what  if  it  should  become  the  truth 
that  I  no  longer  care  for  you  ? ' 

"  Arvid  laughed :  '  I  have  you  anyway  —  for 
that  matter  there  is  no  human  being  of  whom  I 
am  so  fond  that  I  could  not  do  without.' 

"  A  chill  seized  my  heart  ...  it  settled  there. 
I  ceased  weeping  so  much.  I  became  curious  to 
see  how  it  would  come  out " 


64  SANPRIEL 

She  rose  again.  She  could  not  keep  still.  She 
whispered  plaintively: 

"  No,  there  is  nothing  more  to  it.  Why  should 
I  bother  about  it  when  I  am  so  tired?  " 

But  she  could  not  get  away  from  it.  She  kept 
thinking  how  Arvid  went  on  just  as  happy  as  be- 
fore, and  how  she  began  to  look  at  him  so  differ- 
ently .  .  .  That  troubadour  manner  which  had  be- 
come him  so  well,  and  which  she  had  thought  gave 
evidence  of  something  deeper  .  .  .  how  it  had 
fallen  from  him  like  a  worn-out  garment  .  .  .  and 
the  interests  which  at  first  had  bound  them  to- 
gether, how  they  finally  had  been  absorbed  in  the 
materialism  which  had  grown  up  in  him !  He 
became  indolent,  acquired  more  and  more  an 
appetite  for  good  things  to  eat,  and  began  to  con- 
cern himself  with  affairs  in  the  kitchen.  They 
all  said  to  her:  "  How  fortunate  you  are  to  have 
a  husband  who  is  such  a  good  hand  to  look  after 
the  house !  " 

But  she  did  not  see  that  —  she  saw  only  that 
their  ways  had  begun  to  divide.  And  it  seemed  to 
her  that  she  never  became  any  older,  but  still  sat 
there  in  her  youth.  Others  about  her  grew  and 
became  fully  matured  men  and  women,  while  she 
herself  stood  still. 

The  young  married  women  said  to  her :  "  You 
don't  understand  being  married.  You  don't  know 
how  to  make  the  most  of  your  situation." 


SANPRIEL  65 

They  often  had  company,  music  and  dancing. 
Arvid  was  fond  of  such  things. 

She  lay  staring  up  at  the  sky. 

Then  came  the  two  little  children.  They 
seemed  so  strange  almost  from  the  first.  Was 
it  nature  avenging  herself?  They  grew  up  re- 
sembling their  father  and  their  father's  family  — 
the  same  broad  white  teeth  that  laughed  at  every- 
thing, the  same  love  of  good  things  to  eat. 

She  felt  at  that  moment  a  sort  of  wonderment 
that  the  young  girl  with  the  clear,  cold  eyes  and  the 
disdainful  expression  about  the  fresh  mouth  could 
really  be  her  daughter  —  and  Birger,  so  like  his 
father,  with  the  same  stream  of  careless  expres- 
sions, good-natured,  complacent,  of  one  who  early 
becomes  corpulent.  They  resembled  him  also  in 
the  fact  that  if  there  was  anything  they  wanted  of 
her,  they  could  display  such  an  excess  of  affection 
as  to  make  one  sick  at  heart. 

She  drew  a  deep  breath  as  she  brushed  the  hair 
back  from  her  forehead. 

What  was  the  use  of  lying  there  thinking  about 
it  all?  Perhaps  it  was  not  always  that  way.  She 
wondered  if  any  one  ever  enjoyed  living. 

And  so,  as  she  had  gone  about  with  this  weight 
upon  her,  she  had  never  been  able  to  remember 
that  she  was  old,  and  that  life  was  over  for  her. 
It  was  this,  of  course,  which  indicated  the  weak 
condition  of  her  mind. 


66  SANPRIEL 

Her  children,  both  of  whom  were  so  practical, 
looked  upon  her  as  an  old  woman,  who  ought  to 
sit  in  the  chimney-corner  at  home. 

If  only  a  wave  might  come  some  time  and  break 
over  her  life,  and  wash  out  every  trace  ...  if 
the  storm  as  it  broke  over  her  head  could  take 
her  with  it  and  leave  no  memory  behind ! 

She  rose.  How  foolish  of  her  to  lie  there  in 
that  fashion!  What  good  could  it  do?  It  was 
all  over  and  she  had  become  reconciled.  Every- 
thing was  ended.  All  that  could  break  had 
broken.  That  which  had  once  shone  so  brightly 
had  gone  out  in  darkness  and  had  become  a  thing 
of  the  past. 

They  rose  before  her,  those  days  when  the  cup 
of  life's  bitterness  seemed  full  —  ever-memorable, 
ineffaceable  —  days  that  could  never  come  again 
because  she  had  lost  the  power  to  suffer.  There 
was  something  comforting  in  that  thought. 
Thank  God  that  she  had  gotten  so  far.  Now  for 
the  first  time  was  she  happy. 

But  a  shudder  passed  through  her.  Her  eyes 
were  full  of  tears. 

It  was  getting  along  toward  evening. 
She  lay  as  before  staring  up  at  the  sky. 
Overhead  was   a   rainbow.     It  dissolved  and 
faded   away.     A   shower   of   heavenly   blossoms 


SANPRIEL  67 

sank  down  about  her,  grew  pale,  then  disappeared. 
There  came  a  long-drawn  sigh  from  the  mountain 
side. 

The  forest  was  always  sighing.  Or  was  it  the 
wind,  or  the  river?  Or  were  there  spirits  in  the 
air  that  were  blending  all  these  low  tones  together 
into  billows  that  would  roll  on  and  on  unceasingly, 
like  her  own  silent,  endless  longing  that  never 
could  find  rest. 

A  faint  sound  came  up  from  the  rushes. 

She  looked  out  over  the  water.  It  was  touched 
with  the  red  of  the  rose.  Two  loons  left  long 
streaks  behind  them  as  they  swam.  Their  white 
breasts  shone  in  the  sun  each  time  they  rose  at 
the  beat  of  the  wing. 

And  the  heavens  —  most  magnificent  to  behold  1 
The  flowers  were  gone;  but  the  animals  of  earth 
were  there,  all  clad  in  rose-color.  How  noiselessly 
they  moved  about,  with  not  a  human  being,  not 
one  to  say  a  single  word.  That  was  the  best  of 
all. 

She  lay  there  staring  up  at  the  sky. 

One  by  one  the  little  creatures  stole  away. 
Again  there  came  a  faint  glow.  Her  gaze  fol- 
lowed the  horizon.  She  saw  the  great  profile  of 
the  mountains  against  the  sky,  and  the  heavy  stone 
face  of  the  giant  who  had  lain  down  to  rest  on  the 
soft  green  of  the  mountain  side,  with  his  mighty 


68  SANPRIEL 

head  sunk  low.     How  she   enjoyed  it,   all  this 

peace  and  harmony  of  nature 

Is  that  some  one  coming?     What  does  any  one 

want  here? 

It  was  Madame  Harder  who  was  coming  from 
the  sick  man.  She  passed  her,  then  turned,  saw 
her  and  smiled.  There  was  something  in  the 
glance  which  moved  her.  It  seemed  to  say: 
"  Arise  and  go.  Be  sound  and  whole  again." 

Thora  Thammers  bowed  her  head. 

Then  she  lifted  her  face  again,  followed  her 
with  her  eyes  as  long  as  she  could,  and  listened, 
although  she  knew  she  had  not  spoken.  She  had 
merely  looked  at  her. 

"  Yes,"  she  murmured  finally,  "  I  will." 

Again  some  one  approached.  A  dog  came 
bounding  toward  her.  She  looked  up  and  met  his 
wild,  dark  eye. 

"  Be  still,"  she  said  quietly,  "  I  am  your 
friend." 

He  snuffed  around,  wagged  his  tail,  then 
bounded  off  again,  returning  in  a  moment  with 
his  master. 

She  saw  that  it  was  one  of  the  guests  from  the 
hotel,  the  man  with  the  strange  voice  and  the  in- 
sufferably light  manner  of  speech.  She  became 
involuntarily  prejudiced  against  people  who 
laughed  so  much,  and  his  easy  way  of  taking 
everything  had  irritated  her. 


SANPRIEL  69 

He  stopped  in  front  of  her  and  spoke : 

"Who  is  this  wandering  about  on  my  Flyen? 
So  this  is  where  you  hide  yourself.  Yes,  the  hall 
here  is  spacious  and  has  a  lofty  ceiling." 

She  answered  with  a  faint,  absent-minded  smile 
and  waited  for  him  to  pass  on.  But  he  remained 
standing  there. 

"  Wolf,  come  here.  May  I  present  a  friend  of 
mine?  He  is  of  good  family.  He  is  named  for 
his  great  grandfather  who  was  a  wolf.  You  can 
see  he  betrays  his  origin,  which  never  descends  in 
a  straight  line.  It  is  remarkable  how  you  seem 
to  have  found  favor.  As  a  rule  he  does  not  like 
ladies." 

He  sat  down. 

"  I  hope  I  have  your  permission?  " 

She  did  not  answer.  She  wanted  to  rise  and 
go  away,  but  he  did  not  look  at  her,  so  she  re- 
mained where  she  was. 

'  You  are  right,  Madame,  in  coming  up  here 
where  it  is  so  pleasant.  Very  few  come  here. 
Either  they  go  on  up  higher  and  count  the  moun- 
tain peaks  and  church  towers,  or  else  they  go  to 
the  Falls.  Painting  the  Falls  has  become  an  epi- 
demic. There  are  about  twenty  ladies  sitting 
there  now  painting,  not  to  speak  of  the  men  and 
the  children." 

He  turned  toward  her  with  a  smile. 

"  You  do  not  say  much,  Fru  Thammers,  but 


7o  SANPRIEL 

you  are  observant.  I  have  noticed  that,  at  differ- 
ent times  down  at  the  hotel.  You  look  at  me 
with  the  air  of  a  keeper  in  a  zoological  garden,  as 
much  as  to  say:  '  You  know  very  well  you  ought 
not  to  tease  the  animals.'  ' 

She  said  nothing  but  wished  that  she  had  gone. 

He  continued  gayly: 

"  Perhaps  you  are  up  here  studying  the  fauna 
in  private?  " 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it." 

Her  voice  was  constrained.  She  regretted 
that  she  had  not  gone  immediately. 

"  It  would  be  a  pleasure  to  me  to  help  you  get 
your  bearings.  There  are  some  well  developed 
specimens  here,  in  particular  among  the  younger 
ones.  Have  you  noticed  the  young  people  with 
whom  we  are  blessed  these  days  —  those  remark- 
able creatures  who  go  about  saying  '  namely  '  or 
*  simply,'  and  think  that  that  is  the  whole  thing? 
Have  you  not  observed  what  a  ridiculous  appear- 
ance they  make  with  their  boldness  of  manner 
and  almost  utter  lack  of  training  and  refinement? 
On  their  brows  is  stamped  a  certain  kind  of 
plebeianism,  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  they  go 
about  proud  of  it." 

He  turned  again  and  looked  at  her. 

"  It  was  certainly  different  in  the  old  days,  up 
here  as  well  as  elsewhere.  Now  it  is  a  matter  of 
bevies  of  young  ladies  who  make  mountain  expe- 


SANPRIEL  71 

editions  unsafe,  and  life  here  in  the  hotel  most 
strenuous.  One's  mind  goes  back  to  the  past 
when  fine  young  women  were  more  often  to  be 
seen  than  at  the  present  time." 

She  looked  at  him  hastily,  flushing  crimson. 
Had  this  anything  to  do  with  Gertrude  or  Bir- 
ger?  Why  had  he  come  to  her  with  all  this? 

"  I  ...  I  know  nothing  about  it,"  she  mur- 
mured. There  was  something  about  him  that  dis- 
turbed her. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Fru  Thammers.  You  are 
not  used  to  my  abominable  habit  of  talking  all 
sorts  of  nonsense." 

He  rose  and  stepped  nearer. 

'  You  are  very  near-sighted,  Fru  Thora  Tham- 
mers, and  you  are  very  forgetful.  Likewise  you 
are  easily  satisfied.  You  have  been  content  to  take 
my  title  of  Pasha.  You  have  not  once  made  an 
effort  to  find  out  who  I  am.  Do  you  know  me 
now?" 

She  sprang  up  from  the  stone  on  which  she  was 
sitting.  She  stared  at  him.  As  she  stared  a  gray 
pallor  overspread  her  face.  Her  lips  trembled 
with  uncontrollable  emotion. 

The  man  with  the  voice  —  she  ought  to  have 
known  that  it  was  he.  She  saw  the  deep  lines 
around  the  sensitive,  mobile  mouth  —  the  power 
in  his  eye  —  now  for  the  first  time  she  recognized 
him. 


?2  SANPRIEL 

Must  she  pass  through  all  that  experience  again? 
Like  a  tongue  of  flame  the  thought  flashed  through 
her  mind,  carrying  with  it  overpowering  anguish. 

All  that  for  which  she  had  fought  so  hard  — 
no,  never  would  she  allow  it  to  be  wrested  from 
her. 

A  cold,  hard  expression  came  over  her  face. 
The  low,  flexible  voice  grew  restrained. 

"  No  !     I  do  not  recognize  you." 

"  That  is  remarkable.  I  always  admire  people 
who  forget.  It  is  indeed  plausible,  for  it  has  been 
some  time  —  seven,  eight,  twenty-eight  years.  I 
know  I  have  changed  a  good  deal." 

His  voice  sounded  friendly,  as  he  spoke  with 
an  easy  gayety. 

"  Allow  me  to  inform  you  that  my  name  is  Sam- 
uel Stern,  and  that  I  am  a  wholesale  merchant, 
a  very  poor  one  for  that  matter.  Have  I  per- 
mission to  make  your  acquaintance,  as  it  were  from 
the  beginning  again?  It  would  interest  me." 

She  turned  away.  A  slight  tremor  passed  over 
her.  She  would  pretend  that  she  had  not  noticed 
that  he  had  addressed  her  and  would  quietly  go  her 
way. 

But  she  was  obliged  to  sit  down  again.  She 
could  not  go. 

He  continued  good-naturedly,  genially : 

"  It  is  really  quite  comical  —  you  from  Bergen, 


SANPRIEL  73 

I  from  Christiania;  yes,  just  like  any  other  ordi- 
nary event.  Is  the  Colonel  coming?  " 

"  No." 

She  saw  Adele  Harder's  figure  as  she  came  into 
sight  at  a  turn  in  the  road,  just  before  going  into 
a  small  cottage.  She  must  talk  about  something 
else. 

"  Who  is  she?     Does  she  live  there?  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  her  little  home.  We  call  it  Casa 
Santa  and  she  herself  is  our  Beloved  Mother,  our 
Saint  She  resembles  the  Donna  Velata,  you 
know,  the  original  of  the  Sistine  Madonna." 

He  thought  it  was  a  good  idea  to  talk  of  some- 
thing else  and  continued: 

"  She  comes  up  here  in  the  summer-time  to  rest; 
but  all  who  are  in  trouble  go  to  her,  so  she  gets 
no  peace.  She  has  her  property  where  she  has 
made  a  home  for  friendl-ess  children.  She  teaches 
them  how  to  plant  and  care  for  trees,  and  how  to 
cultivate  the  land,  and  to  learn  from  nature  and 
to  become  men.  The  elite  here  feel  that  they 
must  be  careful  not  to  show  her  too  much  respect, 
for  they  think  that  she  is  poor,  not  married,  and 
not  of  a  good  family.  But  she  ignores  their  vul- 
garity. Not  even  with  the  tips  of  her  delicate 
fingers  could  she  reach  them  in  their  commonplace- 
ness.  The  distance  is  too  great.  When  she 
comes  near  I  always  feel  like  kneeling. 


74  SANPRIEL 

"Have  you  noticed  her  big  blue  eyes?  They 
remind  one  of  English  violets;  but  there  is  an  in- 
spiration in  them,  and  a  dream  of  something 
greater  than  English  violets.  They  dream  that 
the  evils  of  this  world  can  be  overcome.  Have 
you  talked  with  her?  " 

"  No." 

"  Well,  she  talks  very  little,  mostly  with  those 
who  are  in  trouble.  Do  you  talk  with  the  other 
ladies?" 

She  sat  half  turned  away,  her  eyes  avoiding  his 
gaze. 

Suddenly  she  looked  at  him  with  her  far-away, 
troubled  expression. 

He  turned  from  her  and  whistled  to  his  dog. 

Smilingly  he  addressed  her,  saying: 

'  You  wish  me  to  go." 

He  started,  but  turned  back  a  step : 

"  Don't  stay  too  long.  It  is  strange  here  at 
night.  Flyen  is  oppressive." 


CHAPTER  V 

SHE  continued  to  sit  there,  stupid,  no  longer 
thinking. 

The  mountains  still  lay  in  a  luminous  haze;  but 
suddenly  the  great  space  seemed  to  grow  smaller, 
to  contract.  Something  heavy  settled  down.  A 
black  streak  moved  over  the  water.  All  at  once 
it  grew  cold. 

She  began  to  feel  chilly.  Should  she  get  up  and 
go  on  —  lose  herself  in  the  mountains  for  in- 
stance? Or  should  she  go  down  and  put  herself 
to  bed  like  any  ordinary  old  woman  who  knows 
what  she  owes  to  her  children? 

She  rose.  Yes,  of  course!  Especially  since 
she  had  settled  it  all  anyway  and  had  decided  not 
to  bother  herself  any  more  about  the  affairs  of 
this  world. 

Just  as  now  the  heavens,  so  had  everything  else 
closed  in  about  her,  the  horizon  continually  grow- 
ing smaller.  Now  there  was  left  merely  a  narrow 
strip  of  all  she  had  once  thought  so  large.  So 
she  would  withdraw  into  herself  and  live  her  little 
life  in  peace. 

She  went  slowly  back  to  the  hotel.  She  had  a 
cup  of  tea  brought  to  her  room.  This  she  drank 

75 


76  SANPRIEL 

in  a  preoccupied  way,  then  undressed  and  went  to 
bed. 

A  long  time  she  lay  listening  to  the  clock  as  it 
struck,  hour  after  hour,  until  it  seemed  to  her  that 
she  was  asleep;  but  she  must  have  been  awake,  for 
she  could  hear  the  soft  swish  of  the  pendulum  out 
in  the  hallway.  Then  she  knew  nothing  more  — 
only  that  she  was  being  borne  on  swift,  noiseless 
wings  up  through  her  bright  youth  into  the  radi- 
ance of  spring. 

She  was  a  child  and  was  walking  about  in  the 
meadow.  The  forest  in  its  bright  green  dress 
stood  close  around.  The  silken  grass  swayed 
about  her  in  long,  darkening  billows.  The  cuckoo 
was  there,  and  in  the  distance  she  could  hear  the 
wild  dove  —  while  the  swallows  whistled  by.  .  .  . 

It  was  the  time  of  the  wild  flowers  —  the  valley 
was  filled  with  their  fragrance. 

And  she  was  so  happy  over  everything. 

She  walked  along  thinking  —  wonderful  new 
thoughts.  The  air  became  golden.  She  wan- 
dered about  in  that  golden  light.  Then  it  came 
to  her,  the  Dream  of  Life.  She  was  so  happy 
and  so  strangely  stirred.  Now  she  knew  how 
it  would  be  with  her  when  she  grew  up. 

She  sat  down  in  the  grass  and  wept  —  every- 
thing was  so  solemn.  The  sun  went  down  and 
the  whole  earth  was  like  a  castle  of  gold 


SANPRIEL  77 

It  was  in  the  old  garden. 

They  sat  under  an  arch  of  jasmine.  The  great 
white  petals  fell  like  snow.  The  air  was  heavy 
with  the  sweetness  of  the  white  snow.  And  they 
sat  there.  Everything  was  so  still  and  white  that 
neither  of  them  could  speak.  He  cut  her  name  in 
the  old  tree. 

"  Come,"  he  whispered,  "  let  us  go  out  where 
the  linden  sheds  its  fragrance,  under  the  blossom- 
ing arches,  into  the  evening  red.  We  own  it  all." 

She  saw  his  bright,  tender  smile,  the  sensitive 
mouth  that  trembled  as  his  eyes  darkened.  He 
asked: 

"  Why  do  you  love  me?  " 

She  did  not  know 

Never  before  had  the  cuckoo  sung  so  sweetly. 

It  had  been  raining.  They  were  walking 
through  the  steaming  meadow.  Under  cover  of 
the  white  mist  the  flowers  were  fairly  rioting.  It 
was  like  a  skirmish  on  a  plain. 

They  stopped  to  look  at  them.  They  had  to 
laugh.  The  red  clover  was  making  a  great  dis- 
turbance, although  it  was  the  fault  of  the  white 
clover,  which  had  shed  its  perfume  so  profusely 
that  it  had  gone  to  the  heads  of  the  other  flowers. 

It  was  early  one  Sunday  morning.  .  .  .  They 


78  SANPRIEL 

went  a  long,  long  way.  It  seemed  as  if  they  could 
not  turn  back. 

There  was  a  rustling  in  the  ripened  corn.  The 
air  was  filled  with  the  music  of  the  birds.  They 
stood  staring  up  into  the  dazzling  blue,  where  the 
lark,  and  the  light,  and  the  joy  all  swam  around 
together. 

They  had  to  laugh,  for  they  were  so  happy. 

When  they  came  home  all  the  church  bells  were 
ringing. 

It  was  like  a  consecration. 

At  home  they  all  said:  "  Look  at  him.  Just 
look  at  him  now.  He  is  not  the  one  for  you." 
And  they  talked  about  how  he  went  back  and  forth 
and  wasted  his  time. 

She  did  not  understand  them,  any  more  than 
if  it  had  been  the  wind  talking  as  it  flew  past. 
For  when  he  was  there  and  she  saw  him,  she  did 
not  know  how  he  looked.  And  she  could  not 
know  how  he  used  his  time,  for  when  he  came 
time  stood  still. 

She  only  knew  that  her  soul  within  was  bathed 
in  a  nameless  glory.  Flowers  were  falling  — 
white,  so  white  —  and  shedding  their  perfume 
about  her. 

There  was  nothing  for  her  to  do  but  to  sit 
quietly  and  accept  it  all.  She  wished  for  nothing, 


SANPRIEL  79 

not  even  that  he  would  come;  for  he  was  indeed 
always  near. 

She  did  not  understand  what  the  others  were 
talking  about.  She  understood  only  that  this 
was  life  as  it  must  be  for  her.  It  was  the  dream 
she  had  dreamed  that  time  in  the  golden  air,  so 
long  ago  

It  was  winter.  She  was  freezing.  She  had 
forgotten  to  put  on  her  wraps.  Her  soul  was 
full  of  anguish.  She  herself  wanted  to  go  and 
see  if  it  were  true,  that  when  he  left  her  he  went 
to  a  young  actress  who  was  there  playing  a  guest 
role.  Her  brother  tried  to  comfort  her  by  saying 
that  when  she  went  away  that  would  be  the  end 
of  it,  for  she  was  there  merely  as  a  guest.  They 
tortured  her  still  more  at  home. 

And  he  was  there.  So  they  were  at  dinner? 
But  he  must  come  out;  she  must  have  a  word  with 
him. 

Then  he  came  and  his  face  turned  white. 

"  I  merely  wish  to  say  good-by,"  she  said.  He 
wanted  to  go  with  her. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  my  brother  is  with  me." 

And  she  went. 

At  home  they  were  all  glad.  She  must  start 
early  the  next  morning  on  a  trip  to  Bergen  to  see 
her  aunt.  They  arranged  everything  for  her 


80  SANPRIEL 

Then  began  her  wandering  in  the  wilderness. 

But  she  never  could  get  any  water  from  the 
rock. 

She  had  such  an  insatiable  thirst.  It  permeated 
everything,  hands,  feet,  heart,  and  soul;  a  silent, 
consuming  thirst,  unchangeable  as  eternity;  an  an- 
guish which  devoured  her;  a  yearning  cry  for  life, 
for  the  life  she  had  not  had  a  chance  to  live. 

She  slept  heavily.  The  morning  sun  shining  in 
her  face  did  not  waken  her,  nor  the  noise  on  the 
stairs. 

Gertrude  sent  the  maid  in  twice,  for  her  mother 
had  promised  to  help  her  with  a  dress  on  which 
she  wanted  to  make  some  alterations  before  the 
dance  that  evening. 

Now  Gertrude  herself  came,  somewhat  vexed. 

'  You  surely  must  be  sick  to-day,  Mamma.  I 
have  depended  upon  you.  They  are  waiting  for 
me  now  for  our  morning  walk." 

"  My  dear,  you  may  rest  easy." 

Fru  Thammers  raised  herself  in  bed  and  rubbed 
her  face  hard. 

"  I  was  only  dreaming.  I  had  forgotten  that 
you  existed." 

Gertrude  saw  the  rare  smile  that  flitted  over 
her  mother's  face  and  felt  offended. 

"  I  certainly  believe  it;  but  the  worst  of  it  is 
about  the  dress " 


SANPRIEL  8 1 


"  Go,  my  child,  I  will  surely 


But  Gertrude  was  already  half-way  down  the 
stairs  and  her  voice  sounded  almost  tender. 

"  You  are  awfully  good,  Mamma,  but  they  are 
waiting  for  me  below." 

Fru  Thammers  brushed  the  hair  back  from  her 
temples. 

"  How  I  hate  all  this !  "  she  whispered  vehe- 
mently. 

She  bowed  her  head  in  her  hands  and  sat  there 
rocking  back  and  forth  as  if  in  bodily  pain. 

The  clock  struck.  She  pulled  herself  together, 
got  up  and  dressed.  She  stood  a  moment  gazing 
with  a  grim  smile  at  her  reflection  in  the  mirror. 
Then  she  went  down  to  breakfast  and  afterward 
set  to  work  on  Gertrude's  dress.  She  took  her 
sewing  out  on  the  veranda  which  ran  around  the 
house. 

Merchant  Stern  came  along  with  his  wife. 

"  Good  morning,  Fru  Thammers.  May  I  pre- 
sent my  dear  wife  Fru  von  Asten  —  ah,  and  here 
is  Fru  Really  Wholesale-dealer  Iversen." 

Fru  Iversen  tapped  him  on  the  arm  with  her 
work-bag. 

'  You  are  —  yes,  Heaven  knows  you  are  —  yes, 
fortunately  Iversen  is  as  real  as  any  one  can  be, 
and  I  am  really  glad  of  it.  But  you  are  ultra- 
montane." 

What  Fru  Iversen  meant  by  ultramontane  she 


82  SANPRIEL 

could  not  exactly  explain,  but  that  was  never  re- 
quired of  her.  With  a  gracious  and  amiable 
glance  she  came  up  the  steps  of  the  piazza. 

"  Really  it  will  be  very  nice  to  sit  here  and 
chat  a  while  with  you." 

She  took  out  her  work. 

"  For  here  it  is  really  so  ...  yes,  don't  you 
think,  Fru  Thammers,  yes,  what  was  it  Iversen 
said  about  the  view  here  yesterday,  it  was  so  strik- 
ing. .  .  .  Iversen,  come.  What  was  it  you  said 
yesterday  about  the  view?" 

But  Iversen  did  not  hear.  One  caught  only  a 
glimpse  of  a  ponderous  figure  in  light  dress  dis- 
appearing over  the  edge  of  the  hill. 

Merchant  Stern  had  also  disappeared.  The 
gentlemen  were  going  bathing. 

"  And  so  you  were  out  last  evening.  What 
do  you  think  of  the  sunset,  and  so  forth?  Iver- 
sen always  thinks  it  is  so  harmonious  and  clear, 
and  Heaven  knows  that  it  is  really  true." 

Fru  von  Asten  had  settled  herself  and  unrolled 
her  embroidery. 

She  sat  on  the  other  side  of  Fru  Thammers 
who,  with  a  pink  spot  on  either  cheek,  was  sew- 
jng  vigorously. 

Fru  von  Asten's  trim  little  head  with  its  shin- 
ing eyes  was  constantly  in  motion.  She  began  to 
talk;  but  her  share  of  the  conversation  consisted 
entirely  of  brief  questions. 


SANPRIEL  83 

She  was  industriously  embroidering  a  lunch 
cloth.  Her  hands  were  large,  white,  and  supple. 
The  pretty  face  had  an  expression  of  refined  bru- 
tality, with  certain  lines  which  indicated  that  a 
storm  might  easily  happen  wherever  she  might  be. 

At  times  the  fierce  light  of  passion  would  glow 
in  her  eyes,  as  it  did  even  now  while  they  were 
sitting  there  so  peacefully  employed. 

Fru  Thammers  had  the  same  experience  as  the 
others.  Now  and  then  she  had  the  feeling  that 
she  was  being  scratched,  and  so  she  was.  Fru 
von  Asten  could  not  restrain  herself,  although 
she  sat  there  with  her  most  pleasing  smile  and 
was  apparently  very  friendly  toward  Fru  Tham- 
mers. She  was  always  interested  in  the  peculiari- 
ties of  a  newcomer.  By  that  she  meant  their 
faults. 

Fru  Iversen  looked  somewhat  disappointed. 

Fru  Thammers  was  not  sufficiently  interested 
in  fancy  work.  She  would  like  to  know  how  her 
home  looked.  There  was  apt  to  be  something  a 
little  bit  unfeminine  about  ladies  of  that  sort. 

Fru  Thammers  rose.  She  thought  it  was  get- 
ting warm. 

Fru  Iversen  rose  also. 

"  Dear  me !  Iversen !  I  had  really  forgotten 
Iversen  completely.  .  .  ." 

They  all  agreed  that  they  had  sat  there  too 
long. 


84  SANPRIEL 

Fru  Thammers  went  up  to  her  room  and  con- 
tinued her  work,  with  a  feeling  of  thankfulness 
that  she  had  the  right  to  be  alone  there. 

The  dress  was  ready.  Gertrude  was  charmed 
with  her  mother  that  day. 

"  Of  course  you  will  come  in  this  evening  and 
watch  us  dance.  Do  you  know,  sometimes  I  think 
it  is  more  fun  to  sit  still  and  look  on,  for 
there  is  always  some  one  that  you  can  laugh  your- 
self to  death  over." 

Fru  Thammers  looked  at  her  daughter  with  a 
faint  smile. 

"  You  have  not  changed  much.  The  day  you 
were  eight  years  old  you  said  about  the  same 
thing.  It  was  the  first  time  you  ever  had  a 
party.  You  stood  looking  at  them  all  so  scorn- 
fully, and  when  I  asked  what  you  were  thinking 
about,  you  laughed  and  said:  '  Oh,  I'm  just  look- 
ing for  those  that  get  mixed  up,  for  they  are  the 
most  fun.'  ' 

She  sighed  involuntarily,  for  she  could  still  re- 
member how  painfully  she  had  been  shocked  by 
the  expression  in  those  clear,  childish  eyes. 

Gertrude  turned  abruptly  away. 
'  Well,  that  just  shows  that  even  at  that  time 
I  had  a  bit  of  understanding  of  human  nature. 
But  you  will  come  later,  Mamma?  Birger? 
Yes,  Birger  is  getting  ready.  Haven't  you  seen 
him  to-day?  No?  Birger  is  so  busy.  The 


SANPRIEL  85 

morning  is  just  about  the  worst  time,  and  in  the 
evening  we  have  our  Young  Folks  Club,  you 
know.  .  .  .  Yes,  he  is  one  who  maintains  that  he 
should  be  care-free  in  vacation.  I  must  go  and 
.dress  now." 

Fru  Thammers  gazed  after  her  daughter,  then 
began  putting  away  her  sewing  materials.  Sud- 
denly she  stopped,  letting  her  hands  fall. 

What  a  miserable  creature  she  was !  What  had 
she  accomplished  in  the  world?  She  had  not  even 
been  able  to  bring  up  her  children  properly.  The 
same  weeds  that  had  sprouted  with  the  plants 
when  young,  she  now  found  beside  the  fully  de- 
veloped and  grown  plants.  And  she  had  been 
able  to  do  nothing,  not  a  thing. 

After  all  she  was  sorry  for  her  husband.  He 
was  to  be  pitied  for  having  married  her. 

She  felt  it  keenly;  for  she  had  striven  honestly 
all  these  years,  but  had  not  been  able  to  create  a 
home.  There  had  been  no  altar  with  its  sacred 
fires  kindled  by  the  tenderness  of  love,  by  the 
silent  understanding  of  the  soul.  Gray  days  alone 
had  been  the  result  of  all  her  effort. 

In  about  four  weeks  she  would  be  going  home 
again.  Arvid  would  receive  her  in  a  most 
friendly  way.  He  would  kiss  her  and  would  be 
very  properly  pleased. 

And  she?  She  shuddered.  She  herself  did 
not  understand  why  she  no  longer  could  endure 


86  SANPRIEL 

him,  why  her  ability  to  adapt  herself  to  him  seemed 
utterly  exhausted. 

He  would  tell  her  all  sorts  of  things  about  the 
Club,  and  how  the  meals  had  been,  about  Karen's 
roast  beef,  which  was  so  good.  He  often  had 
difficulty  in  expressing  himself;  then  he  would  just 
laugh  instead,  so  she  had  accustomed  herself  to 
laugh  also.  It  pained  her  to  think  how  they  would 
sit  and  laugh  together. 

Then  the  aunts  and  the  other  members  of  the 
family  would  all  come  in.  It  was  when  she  was 
with  her  husband's  people  that  she  felt  her  faults 
most  of  all.  That  peculiarly  cold  atmosphere 
which  enveloped  them  irritated  her  like  something 
scratching  the  skin,  and  always  made  her  feel  her 
weaknesses. 

And  she  had  been  so  lonely  with  it  all.  She  had 
thought  she  could  no  longer  endure  that  loneli- 
ness, right  in  the  midst  of  those  nearest  her. 
None  of  them  had  been  able  to  understand  it. 
They  had  wanted  to  cure  her  of  that  foolish 
nervousness. 

'  You  have  so  much  to  live  for,"  they  said. 
'  You  have  your  husband." 

1  Yes,  that  is  true.     I  have  my  husband." 

"  And  you  have  your  dear  little  children." 
'  Yes,  I  have  my  little  children." 

And  she  had  felt  so  ashamed  of  herself,  as 
guilty  as  a  criminal 


SANPRIEL  87 

After  all,  what  had  she  to  live  for?  She  really 
had  no  one,  not  a  single  human  being.  Arvid,  the 
children,  all  seemed  so  far  away  from  her.  Once 
more  it  came  over  her,  the  strangeness  of  it  all. 

Music  floated  in  at  the  window,  mingled  with 
noise  and  laughter. 

She  could  hear  Gertrude's  voice  and  Birger's 
loud,  unrestrained  laugh.  Involuntarily  she 
thought  of  Arvid. 

What  was  this  anyway  that  she  thought  she 
could  no  longer  endure?  Of  course  she  could. 
So  many  others  had  endured  worse  things  —  why 
shouldn't  she? 

The  clock  struck  one.  The  company  below 
was  breaking  up.  The  yard  was  filled  with,  merry, 
boisterous  people. 

She  listened  for  Birger's  voice.  Had  he  drunk 
too  much  again? 

She  heard  Samuel  Stern's  laugh.  It  approached 
the  house.  What  was  he  doing  here?  Of  course 
he  was  escorting  the  ladies  home. 

Her  heart  seemed  to  contract  at  the  thought 
of  his  happiness.  Why  should  he  not  be  happy, 
he  as  well  as  the  others?  The  truth  was  that  she 
had  become  a  miserable  wretch. 

Gertrude  came  rushing  in. 

"  You  have  not  put  out  your  light,  Mamma ! 
I  thought  you  must  have  forgotten  it." 


88  SANPRIEL 

"What!  haven't  I?  I  thought  all  the  time  I 
was  lying  here  looking  out  into  the  dark.  How 
did  you  enjoy  yourself?  " 

"  Oh,  hugely !  You  may  just  believe  that  Omar 
Pasha  was  in  great  spirits.  He  made  all  the 
young  girls  fall  in  love  with  him  .  .  .  yes,  all  of 
us.  And  it  is  a  good  thing  too,  for  he  has  been 
carrying  on  so  in  other  directions.  Fru  Gyllen- 
skjold  —  she  thought  she  had  him  for  that  matter. 
You  needn't  look  so  disgusted,  Mamma,  for  he  is 
a  remarkable  man;  and  it  is  such  fun  to  see  how 
he  manages  to  make  others  fall  in  love  with  him." 

"  I  think  you  misunderstand  Merchant  Stern, 
my  child." 

"  No,  Mamma,  I  think  it  is  you  who  don't  un- 
derstand such  things.  That  passionate,  romantic 
love  which  was  the  fashion  in  your  day  —  we  have 
broken  away  from  I  am  glad  to  say.  We  amuse 
ourselves  but  do.n't  allow  our  hearts  to  break. 
Papa  always  says  that  is  the  only  way  to  do.  I 
shall  sleep  like  a  top  —  Birger  ?  Yes,  he  has  gone 

to  the  Club.  I  can  say  good  night  for  you 

No,  he  didn't  say  anything  about  it,  you  know  he 
always  has  so  much  on  hand.  Now  I'll  put  out 
the  light." 

Fru  Thammers  lay  down.  Now  she  would  go 
to  sleep.  But  her  mind  was  on  Birger  who  was 
always  so  busy  and  who  felt  the  need  of  being 
care-free,  not  alone  in  vacation. 


SANPRIEL  89 

What  concern  was  it  of  hers  if  Samuel  Stern 
was  fortunate  and  happy?  She,  from  the  depths 
of  her  degradation,  had  no  right  to  scorn  any  one. 
Yet  she  felt  a  great  desire  to  scorn  this  man  — 
him  alone. 

Now  was  this  going  to  keep  her  awake? 

"  Who  will  pray  for  me  that  I  may  sleep,"  she 
whispered. 

She  thought  of  a  little  poem,  the  delicate  rhythm 
of  which  had  often  soothed  her.  Then  came  the 
spirit  of  the  poem  itself  who 

"  Took  the  thought  and  whispered : 
Peace  be  to  thee  in  thy  sleep." 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  WEEK  had  passed  with  a  great  deal  of 
rain.     Then    came    a    radiant    day    when 
everyone,  man  and  beast,  sought  the  open  air,  thus 
giving  opportunity  for  the  most  wonderful  things 
to  happen. 

Blakken,  the  good  old  dairy  horse,  got  into  the 
hallway  and  amused  himself  by  tearing  the  finery 
off  the  ladies'  hats.  Then  Fru  Liss,  who  was  sit- 
ting on  the  veranda,  entertained  herself  by  giv- 
ing valerian  to  the  kittens. 

In  passionate  joy  they  licked  the  bowl,  rolling 
it  round  and  round  again,  until  their  exuberance 
reached  such  a  pitch  that  she  grew  frightened  and 
called  to  Sjur,  who  was  just  starting  out  with  the 
flocks.  Sjur  came  and  all  the  live  stock  with  him. 

"  Pussy,  pussy  .  .  .  come  now,  you  poor 
things " 

There  was  the  little  white  bell-wether.  She 
took  it  by  the  collar. 

"  Aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself?  " 

For  here  came  the  billy-goat,  head  down.  She 
shrieked.  Sjur  came  forward  with  a  protecting 
air. 

90 


SANPRIEL  91 

"  You  needn't  be  afraid,  he  just  does  that  for 
fun." 

Then  came  the  calves,  Red  Star  and  Gold 
Crown. 

"  You  needn't  be  afraid,"  he  said  again,  "  they 
won't  hurt  you." 

He  looked  at  the  fine  city  lady  in  quiet  scorn. 
Such  people  had  so  little  sense. 

Sjur  was  a  red-haired,  freckled  boy,  so  ugly 
that  his  face  was  almost  interesting,  but  with  a 
mildly  clever  expression  and  a  silent  longing  in 
his  glance.  He  was  the  only  one  of  the  people 
thereabouts  whom  Fru  Liss  could  in  any  way  un- 
derstand. He  had  almost  learned  the  city  speech. 

It  had  become  the  custom  among  the  guests 
there  to  get  him  to  tell  stories,  and  Sjur  had  no 
objection  to  associating  with  the  city  people.  His 
ever  fresh,  insatiable  curiosity  concerning  the  out- 
side world  made  him  exceedingly  obliging. 

So,  in  order  to  get  Fru  Liss  to  tell  something 
afterward,  he  began  to  relate  the  story  which  she 
always  wanted  him  to  give  in  detail,  the  story 
about  Rosebloom.  At  that  moment  Don  Miguel 
came  up.  He  was  among  those  who  had  no  ap- 
preciation for  Sjur's  stories.  So  Sjur  had  to  go 
without  getting  his  pay,  for  Don  Miguel,  as  he 
twisted  the  ends  of  his  long  mustache,  craved  per- 
mission to  accompany  Fru  Liss  to  the  Falls.  She 


92  SANPRIEL 

had  promised  one  of  the  artists  that  she  would 
be  on  hand  to  pose  for  a  picture. 

The  hotel  was  almost  deserted.  Even  the  old 
ladies  were  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

When  Fru  Thammers  came  out  she  stood  for 
a  moment  in  surprise.  The  bright  sunshine  over 
all,  added  to  the  fact  that  there  was  no  disturbing 
human  element  in  view,  filled  her  with  quiet  joy. 
There  was  not  a  living  thing  in  sight  except  the 
wagtails  on  the  roof,  and  the  two  tame  crows 
which  were  eating  their  breakfast  in  the  kitchen 
entry. 

She  went  up  on  Flyen. 

It  had  been  a  sort  of  sport  with  her  to  look  for 
places  where  no  one  went  except  Sjur  with  his 
flocks. 

At  times  she  followed  the  sound  of  Sjur's  flute. 
It  amused  her  to  talk  with  the  clever  little  boy, 
and  to  listen  to  him  as  he  wandered  about  with  his 
flute,  picking  out  airs  and  dance  tunes.  Some  of 
these  he  had  learned  at  the  hotel,  others  he  had 
gotten  from  the  Bergegubbe,  or  the  elves;  and 
others  still  he  had  evolved  from  his  own  youthful 
fancy  out  there  in  the  solitude  of  great  Flyen. 

She  loved  to  sit  and  listen  to  the  plaintive  minor 
strains,  in  silent  understanding  with  all  around, 
yet  voicing  the  intense  longing  of  a  soul. 

It  was  interesting  to  watch  the  goats.  When 
they  heard  the  flute  they  would  turn  their  heads 


SANPRIEL  93 

and  come  nearer.  Sjur  knew  that  they  liked  the 
elfin  tunes  best,  just  as  he  knew  what  she  would 
rather  hear. 

Now  she  went  over  and  asked  for  it. 

"  Is  it  true  that  you  learned  that  of  the  Ber- 
gegubbe?  " 

Sjur  looked  at  her  with  his  honest  eyes  while 
he  told  how  he  had  seen  him  plainly  sitting  on 
a  stump  and  playing  an  air  on  his  flute;  but  as 
soon  as  he  got  right  in  front  of  him  he  disappeared. 
Then  he  went  home  and  learned  to  play  the  same 
thing  on  his  flute. 

And  it  was  really  true  that  another  time  Thor 
Andrastsaeter  came  upon  just  such  a  Bergegubbe 
when  he  was  stealing  his  hay.  But  he  was  a  very 
practical  fellow  and  he  thought:  "  Now  I'll  just 
put  a  stop  to  this."  So  he  pulled  the  hay  away 
from  him;  but  the  next  morning  when  he  got  up 
he  was  so  lame  that  he  could  hardly  walk.  Syver 
Jotun  had  been  out  and  had  taken  revenge  on  him. 

No,  it  was  easy  enough  for  any  one  up  here  to 
hear  them  singing  in  the  mountains  after  sunset. 
Or  if  any  one  wanted  to  come  up  after  midnight 
he  could  see  flames  coming  out  of  the  mountain, 
and  a  green  light  over  every  stump  where  they 
were. 

But  now  Sjur  wanted  to  know  about  the  Boer 
War  and  how  long  the  Lord  had  decided  to  let 
such  things  go  on.  Also  he  wanted  to  know  how 


94  SANPRIEL 

kings  and  presidents  were  killed,  and  what  science 
was  good  for,  and  if  it  might  happen  some  time 
that  men  would  reach  the  moon,  and  why  it  was 
that  people  no  longer  lived  nine  hundred  years, 
as  they  did  in  Methuselah's  time. 

There  were  many  other  things  also  that  Sjur 
wanted  to  know;  and  the  goats,  which  are  the 
most  curious  of  all  animals,  also  came  up,  while 
the  sheep  and  the  calves  wandered  peacefully 
around  nibbling  the  grass. 

But  the  information  that  little  Sjur  received  was 
not  always  satisfactory.  He  was  continually 
strengthened  in  his  belief  that  city  people  hadn't 
much  sense. 

So  it  suited  Fru  Thammers  very  well  when 
finally  the  stock  wandered  farther  on  and  Sjur 
had  to  follow  them. 

She  remained  sitting  there.  It  was  so  restful 
to  have  no  thought  for  any  of  this  world's  affairs, 
just  to  watch  the  little  animals  as  they  wandered 
about  with  no  concern  except  to  live.  She  too,  it 
came  to  her,  had  for  the  first  time  learned  to  live, 
up  here  on  Flyen. 

She  wondered  how  any  one  could  torment  one- 
self as  she  had  done.  Was  it  perhaps  because 
the  sun  wasn't  shining? 

And  what  peace  was  there!  Softly  it  came 
streaming  down  from  the  long,  silent  ridges  on 


SANPRIEL  95 

the  mild,  billowy  air,  on  the  golden  beams  of  the 
sun 

She  knew  not  how  time  passed.  Along  the 
horizon  the  sky  grew  red,  and  above  the  ridge 
hung  the  dusk  of  evening. 

There  was  a  long-drawn  sigh.  The  stillness 
of  the  forest  came  out  and  settled  down  about  her. 
All  grew  dim,  and  deep,  and  solemn.  The  silent 
God  who  wandered  there  among  the  trees,  was 
he  bringing  her  secret  help,  a  hidden  strength? 
Or  was  it  welling  forth  from  the  depths  of  her 
own  soul? 

She  recalled  something  she  once  had  read  about 
St.  Francis:  how  he  lay  outside  one  cold  winter 
night,  praying  and  struggling  against  his  sinful 
melancholy  and  his  unrighteous  longing  for  the 
world  —  when  suddenly,  from  the  thorns  with 
which  he  had  been  crucifying  his  flesh,  roses  sprang 
forth ;  his  clothes  were  transformed  and  shone  like 
the  snow  about  him. 

"  Holy  Francis,  when  you  reached  your  heaven 
did  you  not  learn  that  it  was  a  misconception,  the 
idea  that  the  world  did  not  belong  to  you?  " 

How  all  human  beings,  the  greatest  as  well  as 
the  weakest,  possess  the  faculty  of  deceiving  them- 
selves! Would  it  always  be  so  difficult  to  under- 
stand? 

After  all  she  was  sorry  for  no  one.     The  needs 


96  SANPRIEL 

of  humanity  moved  her  no  more  than  the  miscon- 
ceptions of  St.  Francis.  She  felt  cold  and  hard. 
It  did  her  good.  It  was  as  if  she  had  been  sick 
for  a  long  time  and  finally  had  gotten  well  again. 

Now  she  must  be  careful  so  as  not  to  have  a 
relapse. 

She  saw  Samuel  Stern  approaching.  She  had 
scarcely  seen  him  for  a  week,  and  had  indeed 
been  thankful  for  it.  She  was  most  thankful  for 
that  of  which  she  saw  the  least. 

She  returned  his  greeting  and  then  thought  she 
would  go,  but  she  did  not. 

There  was  something  about  Samuel  Stern  which 
impelled  people,  without  a  word  from  him,  to  do 
involuntarily  as  he  wished.  Now  he  desired  that 
she  should  stay. 

He  sat  down  on  a  stone  opposite  her. 

She  thought:  "  I  am  glad  I  have  nothing  to 
say.  I  will  not  talk." 

"  Here  you  sit  amid  all  the  splendor  of  Flyen," 
he  said,  smiling.  "  You  must  be  a  bird  of  pas- 
sage. One  never  finds  you  where  you  were  seen 
last." 

She  moved  a  little  farther  away.  There  was 
something  in  his  voice,  with  all  its  mellowness, 
that  hurt  her,  that  cut  like  a  knife.  It  was,  of 
course,  her  unusual  sensitiveness  to  voices,  noth- 
ing more. 

He  smiled  again. 


SANPRIEL  97 

"  Pardon  me,  I  did  not  hear  what  you  said. 
Do  you  know,  when  you  sit  there  so  silent,  you 
look  just  exactly  as  though  you  had  said  some- 
thing. And  that  is  quite  right,  since  after  all  you 
say  more  than  when  you  speak." 

"  Yes,  I  know  I  am  stupid." 

"  Nevertheless  you  are  missed  down  below. 
Yes,  you  know  one  always  prizes  most  highly 
what  one  lacks.  When  you  are  there  the  people 
think  very  rightly  that  you  are  stupid;  but  when 
you  are  not  there  they  inquire  for  you." 

She  did  not  answer. 

He  came  a  little  nearer.  His  voice  took  on  a 
different  note,  a  deeper  tone. 

"  Last  year  my  mother  was  up  here.  She  did 
not  talk  with  many  people  either.  It  was  my 
fault.  I  begrudged  it." 

Thora  Thammers  leaned  over  and  plucked  a 
blade  of  grass.  A  tremor  ran  through  her. 

"  Your  mother!  "  she  said  softly. 

"  Yes,  I  have  a  mother." 

She  turned  her  gaze  away.  She  dared  not  talk 
with  him  about  his  mother.  No,  they  must  talk 
of  something  else.  But  she  could  think  of  noth- 
ing else  except  to  ask  if  he  spent  much  time  on 
Flyen.  She  did  not  think  it  suited  to  him. 

He  laughed. 

"Why  should  I  not  walk  on  my  own  Flyen? 
I  am  lord  of  Flyen,  especially  at  night.  Then 


98  SANPRIEL 

here  I  am  myself  again,  that  is,  my  earlier  self. 
In  fact,  it  is  here  that  all  my  dead  selves  come 
together." 

His  voice  had  changed  again.  She  looked  at 
him. 

"  Yes,  one  ought  to  take  all  sides  of  one's  per- 
son into  consideration.  In  the  daytime  I  go 
about  among  the  flesh  pots  of  Egypt,  taking  all 
that  I  can  for  myself,  and  I  am  myself.  At  night 
I  come  up  here  and  roam  about,  quite  another  per- 
son, yet  still  I  am  myself." 

"  Is  it  you  who " 

"  Yes,  it  is  I  whom  you  see  coming  down  at 
daybreak.  At  times  I  have  seen  you  standing  at 
your  window.  I  wander  about  up  here  and  peer 
into  the  Promised  Land." 

"  The  Promised  Land,"  she  repeated  softly. 
"  Once  on  a  time  I  dreamed  about  that." 

"  But  I  have  seen  it.  For  that  is  what  I  call 
the  view  from  here,  that  is,  to  myself,  in  greatest 
secrecy.  I  tell  you  only  in  the  strictest  confidence. 
Don't  repeat  it." 

He  glanced  at  her  as  she  sat  there,  with  the 
pained  expression  about  the  mouth,  and  the  big, 
silent  eyes. 

Then  he  continued : 

'  That  is  since  last  year  when  Mother  was  here. 
She  sat  looking  at  the  view  one  evening.  It  was 
difficult  for  her  to  get  about,  but  she  had  gotten 


SANPRIEL  99 

up  here.  It  was  such  a  triumph  we  both  thought. 
She  turned  toward  me.  In  her  eyes  I  saw  that 
intense  longing  which  I  had  seen  before  at  times. 

"  '  It  is  beautiful,'  she  said.  '  Not  for  you,  but 
for  me  it  lies  there  as  the  unattainable,  that  shin- 
ing land  up  there  — a  picture  of  all  that  I  have 
longed  for.  It  lies  there  like  the  Promised  Land, 
which  I  shall  never  enter. 

"  '  But  I  have  seen  it,'  she  said  and  smiled.  '  I 
have  seen  others  go  m,  and  I  have  dreamed  that 
some  time  they  will  reach  there,  the  many  who 
have  brought  happiness  to  me.' 

"  And  she  looked  at  me :  '  I  am  hoping  for 
you,  my  boy,  that  you  may  enter  in.  Remember, 
you  must  go  farther  than  I  have.' 

'  Then  I  humbled  myself.  I  knelt  before  my 
beloved  mother  and  looked  into  her  bright  blue 
eyes,  with  their  expression  so  sorrowful,  yet  strong 
and  undaunted.  I  asked:  '  Can  you  tell  me, 
Mother,  why  the  Lord  did  not  take  Moses  up 
on  the  wings  of  an  eagle  and  bear  him  into  the 
promised  land?  Yes,  like  an  eagle  should  he  have 
spread  out  his  wings  and  borne  him  along,  for  it 
is  written  that  he  was  great  and  the  meekest  of 
all  the  earth.  And  can  you  tell  me,  Mother, 
why  he  has  closed  this  land  to  you?  For  you  are 
strong  like  Moses,  and  yet  more  gentle  than  any 
one  I  know.' 

"  Then  my  mother  laughed  at  me.     She  always 


ioo  SANPRIEL 

laughs  when  I  say  such  things,  but  I  know  that 
they  are  true. 

"This  year  she  did  not  come;  but  in  remem- 
brance of  the  fact  that  she  was  here,  I  have  named 
the  little  house  where  we  lived  together  and  where 
I  live  alone  now,  Mount  Pisgah.  It  faces  toward 
the  east.  From  there  I  can  look  into  the  Prom- 
ised Land. 

"  The  others  go  up  there,  but  I  do  so  no  longer. 
I  prefer  to  come  where  I  can  look  in. 

"  Now  I  have  told  you  a  little  about  my  mother. 
I  have  never  talked  with  any  one  else  about  her." 

Suddenly  he  changed,  and  in  a  jesting  way: 

"  Yes,  for  you,  know,  of  course,  you  are  con- 
sidered such  a  '  noble  '  sort  of  person." 

As  she  listened  a  pallor  overspread  her  face. 
The  sound  of  his  voice  as  he  stood  there  —  she 
closed  her  eyes  —  brought  back  to  mind  all  the 
dead  and  forgotten  past. 

Again  she  was  hurt  by  his  change  in  tone.  She 
could  not  follow  his  mood,  and  his  lightness  of 
manner  irritated  her  as  she  took  his  jest  in  earnest. 

"  No  one  must  believe  that  of  me.  Why  should 
I  be  called  noble?" 

He  laughed. 

"  No,  I  agree  with  you  that  you  have  no  legal 
claim  to  be  called  noble.  Do  you  know  my  wife? 
She  thinks  people  are  always  full  of  faults." 

She  did  not  answer  immediately.     It  was   at 


SANPRIEL  10 1 

least  a  satisfaction  that  she  could  sit  here  so  quietly 
and  talk  with  this  man.  It  was  like  making  his 
acquaintance  over  again.  And  about  his  wife? 
She  would  be  glad  to  talk  about  her.  It  was  with 
a  certain  sort  of  curiosity  that  she  turned  toward 
him  again. 

"  It  is  very  nice  that  you  have  your  wife  with 
you  up  here." 

"  Yes,  it  is  indeed.  She  looks  after  my  faults 
and  runs  down  my  illusions.  Such  things  are  good 
for  one,  although  for  that  matter,  it  does  not  affect 
me  particularly.  For,  as  Goethe  says,  what  kind 
of  a  man  is  it  who  would  dare  complain  about  him- 
self? And  that  marriage  may  be  slightly  uncom- 
fortable was  discovered  before  our  time.  For 
the  rest  we  are  a  very  sensible  married  couple. 
We  talk  together  very  little.  In  fact  we  have  the 
faculty  of  conversing  at  a  distance.  My  wife 
never  answers  what  I  say,  but  what  she  thinks 
I  say;  and  she  very  willingly  assumes,  as  people 
say,  that  it  is  foolish." 

She  looked  at  him  intently. 

Why  was  he  telling  her  all  this?  She  had  al- 
ways been  such  a  simpleton  about  taking  every- 
thing so  seriously.  It  didn't  trouble  him  the  least 
bit.  He  was  just  amused  by  it.  Nevertheless  it 
annoyed  her. 

"  I  think  your  wife  is  very  charming,"  she  said, 
in  order  to  say  something. 


102  SANPRIEL 

"  Of  course  she  is  charming.  She  has  eyes  that 
shine  in  the  dark,  and  velvety  hands,  and  some- 
thing that  I  call  her  velvet  fury.  You  would  en- 
joy knowing  her." 

"  You  certainly  never  take  anything  to  heart." 

"  Why  should  I?  Have  we  not  been  enjoined 
to  let  each  day  take  care  of  its  own  troubles?  " 

She  turned  quickly  toward  him. 

"  What  do  you  do  about  the  others?  " 

"What  others?" 

"  All  those  that  are  past." 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  is  the  blessed  past  that  people  set 
such  store  by,  women  in  particular.  They  are 
frightful  about  going  around  carrying  more  than 
they  can  bear.  But  what  shall  one  do  with  all  the 
troublesome  baggage?  In  the  old  days  if  there 
was  a  flood  one  could  just  heave  such  things  over- 
board. Even  now  that  could  be  done." 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  peculiar  side-glance. 

She  rose. 

"  I  must  go  home.  I  cannot  understand  what 
you  say." 

"  I  thank  you,  Madame,  for  your  angelic  pa- 
tience, and  am  glad  to  find  that  you  are  sensible. 
Let  us  not  talk  together  too  often  or  too  long. 
Let  us  simply  be  friends." 

"Simply?" 

'  Yes !     Don't  you  know  that  friends  can  reach 
the  point  where  they  can't  endure  the  sight  of  one 


SANPRIEL  103 

another?  That  is  for  the  very  reason  that  they 
have  stripped  one  another  of  all  ornament  and 
splendor,  leaving  bare  the  sharp  corners  on  which 
they  stumble  and  hurt  themselves." 

She  went  forward  a  few  steps,  then  turned. 

"  You  for  a  friend?  That  daring  feat  no  one 
ought  to  attempt,  who  is  not  free  from  baggage." 

He  started  toward  her,  then  stopped. 

"What  is  it  about  you?  There  is  something 
white  around  you.  Also  there  is  something  you 
have  forgotten,  the  years  that  you  have  lived. 
Do  you  know  what  the  old  priest  said  the  evening 
you  arrived?  He  glanced  up  from  his  pipe  and 
looked  you  over  quite  concerned :  '  You  poor 
child,  what  have  they  done  to  you  ?  '  Then  he 
went  on  with  his  smoking.  I  also  looked.  Every- 
one stared  at  you." 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  bewildered, 
astonished. 

Was  everything,  all  forgotten?  Or  had  it 
never  been?  Was  it  only  she  who  had  once  had 
a  horrible  dream? 

Then  she  laughed. 

"  What  a  strange  priest!  Don't  you  think  so? 
Where  are  you  going  now?  " 

"  Over  to  hear  great  Pan  sleep.  When  all 
good  Christian  people  have  gone  to  bed  it  is  so 
pleasant  here.  If  my  luck  is  good  I  may  have  an 


io4  SANPRIEL 

opportunity  to  hear  the  Bergefrue  *  and  her 
maidens  '  wandering  and  singing  and  dancing.' 
To  be  sure  some  troublesome  people  maintain 
that  it  is  only  the  dripping  of  the  water  inside  the 
mountain." 

He  took  a  daisy  from  his  button-hole. 

"  You  shall  have  my  white  blossom.  It  is  the 
whitest  flower  in  the  field,  the  first  that  promised 
that  it  would  do  no  harm  to  Balder." 

"No,  no!"  she  said  hastily.  "Do  not  give 
me  a  white  flower,  it  is  not  suitable.  White  is 
not  my  color.  Good-night." 

She  nodded  and  started  hurriedly  down  the 
slope. 

Never  had  she  felt  more  foolish  and  awkward. 
It  was  the  same  feeling  she  so  often  had  when 
she  was  with  Arvid  and  her  clever  children.  How 
easily  everybody  takes  things! 

No,  she  need  not  be  afraid  to  talk  with  that 
man.  For  was  she  not  indeed  an  old  woman? 
And  he?  Perhaps  he  had  never  thought  a  word 
about  the  whole  affair.  For  the  first  time  this 
occurred  to  her. 

It  was  rather  late  just  to  begin  to  understand 
life.  Now  she  also  would  try  to  take  things 
lightly,  just  as  Arvid  and  the  others  did  —  and 
this  man  who  had  the  happy  faculty  of  being  able 
to  forget  from  one  day  to  another. 

1  The  bergefrue  or  hougfrue,  a  character  in  Norwegian  folk- 
lore, the  queen  of  the  elves  or  hillfolk. 


CHAPTER  VII 

IT  was  a  perfect  day. 
Immediately  after  breakfast  Thora  Tham- 
mers  took  her  book  and  her  work  and  went  up 
on  Flyen.  It  was  now  August.  In  a  few  days 
she  would  be  going  home.  She  did  not  want  to 
think  about  it.  Anyway  she  had  the  long  day 
before  her  to  be  alone. 

And  how  the  sun  did  shine.  Its  rays  came 
down  like  a  stream  of  gold.  She  thought  she 
could  hear  them  softly  humming  in  their  golden 
splendor;  and  all  around  her  was  the  heath  with 
its  faint  sounds  and  delicate  colors  melting  into 
one. 

Was  there  no  wind  to-day? 

She  had  gotten  into  the  way  of  sitting  there 
listening,  to  see  if  it  were  not  coming,  or  if  some- 
thing else  would  not  happen. 

Down  in  the  parlor  below,  she  often  sat,  stu- 
pidly paying  no  attention  to  what  was  being  said. 
But  up  here  she  was  always  on  the  alert,  listening 
for  all  the  soft  sounds  which  were  barely  audible. 
Then  would  come  a  breath  from  the  lake  or  a 
drowsy  murmur  from  the  river. 

And  to-day  —  at  last  the  wind  had  come  after 
105 


io6  SANPRIEL 

all.  She  heard  its  deep,  billowy  breathing.  It 
was  there.  Its  roar  was  like  the  song  of  a  power- 
ful, many-stringed  instrument.  The  tones  seemed 
to  come  from  the  whole  earth 

A  cold  little  nose  touched  her  ear  —  for  they 
were  good  friends,  those  two. 

It  was  Donna,  Samuel  Stern's  young  hound. 

The  dog  stuck  her  sleek  head  up  into  her  face 
and  gazed  at  her.  In  the  soft  glance  of  her  eye 
there  was  an  uncertainty,  the  vagueness  of  a  force 
not  yet  awakened. 

With  the  dog  came  Samuel  Stern  of  course. 
She  had  not  spoken  to  him  for  several  days.  It 
had  just  happened  that  way,  for  she  no  longer 
avoided  him. 

He  came  over  and  sat  down. 

"How  are  you?"  she  asked  smilingly. 

"  Heaven  dwells  in  my  soul  as  in  the  heart  of 
a  young  girl  who  is  beloved,  as  Goethe  says." 

1  You  are  no  Goethe  lover.  One  can  tell  that 
by  your  quotations." 

"  Is  this  not  a  magnificent  day?  Such  a  day 
as  God  creates  for  his  saints,  but  which  the  sin- 
ners enjoy." 

'  We  poor  sinners,  are  we  then  to  be  accused 
of  stealing  our  sunshine?  " 

'  Yes,  you  spend  altogether  too  much  time  here 
on  Flyen.  You  sit  here  like  a  sibyl,  listening  to 
the  heart-beat  of  the  world  and  writing  your  wis- 


SANPRIEL  107 

dom  on  the  leaves,  only  to  scatter  it  to  the  winds ; 
and  you  are  in  complete  ignorance  of  all  our  hap- 
penings. Why  were  you  not  at  the  farewell  cele- 
bration yesterday?  " 

She  laughed. 

;<  When  I  was  small  if  there  was  going  to  be 
company  at  home  I  was  always  so  impatient.  I 
remember  once  I  stood  in  a  corner  and  prayed 
that  the  visitors  would  come.  Now  I  would 
rather  get  away  from  people." 

She  laughed  again.     She  was  in  good  spirits. 

She  had  a  sweet  little  mellow  laugh  that  seemed 
to  melt  away  among  the  flowers. 

"  Is  there  anything  going  on?  "  she  asked. 

"  A  great  deal.  According  to  official  report 
the  Adjunct  has  been  made  a  Knight  of  the  North- 
ern Star  in  the  service  of  the  King  and  the  Father- 
land —  and  of  humanity,  as  if  that  were  something 
entirely  different.  Also,  Her  Majesty  Fru  Tha- 
mar  Gyllenskjold  has  gone." 

Thora  smiled  as  she  sat  stroking  Donna's  deli- 
cate head,  while  Samuel  Stern  watched  the  grace- 
ful, somewhat  nervous  hands.  He  continued: 

"  She  always  tells  me  that  it  is  her  husband  who 
has  such  great  influence  in  city  affairs,  but  I  don't 
believe  her.  Her  husband  possesses  nothing  more 
than  the  ordinary  man's  intelligence.  Of  what 
avail  is  that  when  opposed  to  hers?  With  the 
greatest  ease  she  rules  him,  and  hence  the  city 


log  SANPRIEL 

authorities,  without  any  one  having  the  slightest 
suspicion  of  it,  for  she  governs  from  so  far  back 
in  the  depths  of  the  council  chamber." 

"  Is  this  the  lady  of  your  heart  of  whom  you 
speak?" 

"  Fru  Gyllenskjold  is  a  beautiful  woman,  to  look 
upon.  Her  slippers  charm  the  eyes  of  man. 
Likewise  she  is  not  stupid.  But  one  would  never 
entrust  a  heart  to  her  keeping." 

"  They  must  all  fear  you.  Why  do  they  call 
you  Omar  Pasha?  " 

"  Oh,  that  is  Fru  Gyllenskjold.  She  must  have 
found  some  resemblance.  According  to  tradition 
God  loved  him,  but  would  never  allow  him  to  at- 
tain his  desire." 

She  glanced  at  him.  At  times  his  eyes  seemed 
to  withdraw  beneath  his  brows  and  glow  like  burn- 
ing coals. 

She  moved  a  little  farther  away.  She  plucked 
some  flowers  and  tied  them  up  with  blades  of  grass. 

"Is  there  any  more  news?  I  am  sure,  you 
know  .  .  .  for  I  think  .  .  .  no,  there  really  is 
nothing " 

"  Froken  Schaum  has  gone  also.  She  could  not 
work  here.  There  is  an  author  who  has  not  gone 
at  it  in  the  right  way.  She  ought  to  make  away 
with  herself.  Let  us  hope  that  she  will  make 
quick  work  of  it.  A  woman  ought  not  to  be  tor- 
tured too  much.  Do  you  know,  that  mild  little 


SANPRIEL  109 

woman  is  akin  to  the  terrible  pedagogues  of  the 
1 6th  century.  These  ladies  who  do  not  know  how 
to  write  are  altogether  too  rash." 

She  laughed. 

"How  is  that?" 

He  continued: 

"  It  is  not  the  mild  little  Froken  Schaum  alone 
with  whom  we  are  concerned.  Since  our  civiliza- 
tion has  not  yet  advanced  far  enough,  or  if  you 
will,  so  long  as  our  natural  understanding  is  not 
yet  clever  enough  so  but  that  we  involuntarily  con- 
sider a  book  better  when  we  think  it  is  written  by 
a  man  —  why,  in  Heaven's  name,  do  not  women 
call  themselves  Mons,  or  Hans,  or  Nils  Peter? 
One  ought  to  use  a  little  common  sense." 

"  That  is  just  what  women  do  not  possess,  in 
your  opinion." 

'  Yes,  some  of  them  do.  George  Sand  and 
George  Eliot  were  clever  enough  to  build  up  their 
reputation  under  a  man's  name.  People  were 
fooled  into  thinking  that  George  Eliot  was  an 
old  clergyman,  and  that  saved  her.  Rosa  Bon- 
heur  went  about  in  a  man's  costume  at  the  most 
critical  time  in  her  career.  Otherwise  she  would 
have  been  devoured.  But  this  foolish  creature 
here,  she  will  obtain  results  just  in  accordance  with 
her  methods." 

"  Let  us  hope  that  she  will  succeed." 

She  laughed  again.     She  was  in  such  good  spir- 


i  io  SANPRIEL 

its.  She  was  watching  some  ants  that  were  drag- 
ging something  off.  They  really  interested  her 
more.  It  was  queer,  bat  she  cared  so  little.  It 
did  not  affect  her  in  the  least  to  hear  about  all 
these  women  who  had  been  so  successful,  and 
about  this  one  who  was  going  to  fail.  In  fact 
she  would  prefer  not  to  hear  anything  more. 

"  Have  any  others  gone?  "  she  asked,  however. 
"I  thought  ...  no,  it  was  nothing — "  She 
smilingly  shook  her  head. 

"  Yes,  the  Adjunct.  One  misses  his  attempts 
at  witticism.  And  to-morrow  two  of  the  most 
charming  of  our  free-minded  young  ladies  go." 

"  Oh,  then  you  will  have  to  quiet  down  if  both 
Fru  Gyllenskjold  and  the  young  ladies  are  gone. 
I  thought " 

"  Do  you  always  think  so  much?  I  mean,  are 
you  not  accustomed  to  use  that  word  somewhat 
at  random?  " 

His  tone  was  light. 

1  You  look  so  shocked.  Out  with  it !  " 
'  Very  well,  it  is  quickly  said.  I  have  won- 
dered if  those  ladies  down  there  were  not  quite 
necessary  for  your  happiness?  Must  you  not  al- 
ways have  a  number  to  worship  you,  while  you 
yourself  take  it  easy?  You  must  excuse  me.  I 
am  always  afraid  to  say  anything,  for  I  am  sure 
to  say  too  much.  One  ought  not  to  do  that,  but 


SANPRIEL  in 

I  think,  yes,  I  do  think  you  are  spoiled  by  the 
women." 

Scared  by  what  she  had  said,  she  leaned  over 
and  stroked  Donna's  neck.  She  heard  the  scorn 
in  his  voice  as  he  laughed. 

"  You  do  me  too  much  honor,  Madame.  So 
that  is  what  you  think!  I  certainly  must  be 
wicked,  people  are  so  greatly  concerned  about  my 
soul's  welfare.  But  what  is  it  they  are  criticising? 
Something  that  is  here  to-day  and  gone  to-mor- 
row, something  far  out  in  the  periphery  of  my 
being.  Man  is  a  most  complex  mechanism. 

"  No,  one  who  has  a  mother  like  mine  does  not 
allow  himself  to  be  spoiled  by  any  woman.  In 
fact,  I  do  not  invite  them  in,  these  ladies  —  I  en- 
tertain them  in  the  outer  court,  but  they  are  never 
admitted  to  the  temple." 

She  sat  erect. 

"  I  should  like  to  tell  you  about  my  mother. 
Will  you  listen?" 

She  nodded. 

"  She  has  always  understood  me.  She  is  my 
comrade,  my  best  friend.  She  is  Moses  who  is 
leading  me  toward  the  Promised  Land;  but  she  is 
not  like  Moses  who  became  tired.  She  never 
grows  weary,  therefore  I  can  never  be  lost. 

"  I  had  to  leave  home  early.  She  said  to  me: 
'  It  is  unfortunate  for  you,  my  boy,  that  I  am 


ii2  SANPRIEL 

obliged  to  send  you  from  me;  but  it  is  your  oppor- 
tunity to  see  if  you  can  win  through.'  It  hap- 
pened as  Mother  feared.  It  was  difficult  for  me. 
But  all  my  sins  I  took  to  her  —  everything  that  I 
did  amiss,  and  for  which  I  sorrowed  and  suffered, 
with  all  that  I  went  to  Mother. 

"  She  never  turned  away.  She  understood  my 
nature.  She  knew  about  it  all,  the  evil  tenden- 
cies which  I  had  inherited,  and  my  own  despicable 
qualities;  but  she  had  no  fear.  She  did  not  let 
me  lie  when  I  was  struck  down.  Such  a  love, 
with  its  silent  forgiveness  and  tender  pity,  has  a 
power  to  protect  and  save.  It  is  the  atmosphere 
of  home  hovering  round  one." 

He  spoke  mildly  and  slowly.  He  was  looking 
down  so  she  could  not  see  his  eyes. 

Suddenly  he  turned  toward  her. 

"What  did  you  say?" 

"Nothing  —  no,  I  said  nothing." 

"  I  am  going  to  confide  in  you.  In  fact,  there 
was  once  a  young  woman  for  whom  I  opened  the 
door  of  the  temple.  There  was  a  place  for  her 
beside  my  mother  who  was  waiting  inside.  I  had 
told  Mother  that  she  was  coming,  and  she  crossed 
the  court.  White  butterflies  followed  her.  But 
when  she  had  set  her  foot  on  the  threshold  she 
turned  and  went  away  again.  She  did  not  un- 
derstand that  she  stood  on  holy  ground/ 

"  Then  I  said  to  Mother :     '  It  is  over.     The 


SANPRIEL  113 

white  butterflies  will  come  here  no  more.'  But 
she  said :  '  Now  is  your  opportunity  to  grow,  to 
rise  above  yourself.' 

"  Then  again  came  a  time  when  I  thought  all 
was  ended.  But  Mother  smiled :  '  Nothing  is 
at  an  end.'  She  possessed  in  her  soul  the  gift  of 
understanding.  No  one  understands  like  a 
woman  who  does  understand.  No  one  sees  so 
far  into  the  soul  of  another.  Therefore  I  wor- 
ship my  mother.  She  is  the  only  woman  whom 
I  worship.  I  have  lost  faith  in  other  women.  I 
learned  that  from  the  one  who  turned  away.  I 
name  her  as  accomplice  in  all  that  I  have  done 
amiss." 

Thora  Thammers  sprang  up  from  the  stone 
where  she  was  sitting.  Her  lips  grew  white  and 
seemed  to  shrivel.  She  had  felt  that  something 
was  coming.  She  had  noticed  his  voice  which 
had  altered  until  she  no  longer  recognized  it. 

She  stared  at  him. 

He  stood  there  transformed heavy, 

strong,  with  the  dark  flame  in  his  eye. 

Now  for  the  first  time  she  recognized  him  as 
he  once  was.  It  was  as  if  he  had  risen  before  her 
unchanged  through  the  long  vanished  years. 

She  looked  at  him  in  dumb  terror. 

Was  it  her  fault? His,  his  crime  —  was  it 

hers? 

He  laughed. 


ii4  SANPRIEL 

"And  you?  Are  you  satisfied  with  your  de- 
velopment? Was  it  not  more  than  commenda- 
ble of  you  to  become  the  mother  of  those  children? 
I  wonder  if  they  are  not  more  like  children  born 
out  of  wedlock?  " 

Suddenly  she  grew  calm  and  quiet.  Her  blood 
seemed  frozen  within  her  and  it  was  a  relief. 

With  bowed  head  she  stood  there. 

Both  were  silent.  He  breathed  heavily  as  if 
from  physical  exertion. 

"  I  had  to  say  it,"  he  said  quietly  at  last.  "  It 
had  to  be  said  once." 

She  looked  up. 

"  Yes  .  .  .  yes,"  she  said  hesitatingly. 

Then  she  smiled  and  raised  her  head.  Her 
throat  swelled.  Her  blood  began  to  move  and  a 
light  flashed  in  her  eye. 

"  It  does  not  matter,"  she  said,  and  laughed. 
"  Anyway,  you  are  quite  right." 

She  turned  her  face  toward  him.  They  looked 
into  one  another's  eyes. 

'  Thora,"  he  said  heavily,  "  give  me  permis- 
sion to  pronounce  that  name  once  more,  that  name 
so  silent  and  reserved,  like  yourself." 

She  smiled  bitterly. 

"  Of  what  use  is  it?" 

'  What  are  you  thinking  about?  " 

"  Oh,"  she  said  slowly,  "  of  something  I  once 
read  in  the  Coptic  Bible:  But  the  Lord  said  to 


SANPRIEL  115 

his  disciples,  '  Do  you  not  see  that  the  animal  is 
bleeding,  and  do  you  not  hear  how  it  shrieks  and 
moans?'  Then  the  disciples  said,  'No,  Lord! 
We  do  not  hear  it  shrieking  and  moaning.'  .  .  . 
So  with  us  ...  we  do  not  hear  one  another." 

"  Explain  yourself,"  he  begged.  "  Answer  me. 
Say  something  more." 

"  I  will,  sometime  —  later." 

"  To-morrow?  " 

She  did  not  answer,  but  started  off. 

He  stood  there  gazing  after  her.  He  saw  the 
slender,  slightly  bent  figure  outlined  against  the 
sky  —  then  it  seemed  to  sink  down  into  Flyen. 

He  could  see  her  no  longer,  but  he  could  still 
hear  her  last  word.  Flyen  had  caught  it,  all 
Flyen  was  full  of  it.  ...  To-morrow?  Would 
she  come  to-morrow? 

But  early  next  morning  Fru  Thammers  left. 
They  said  a  telegram  had  come  from  her  hus- 
band. 

Gradually  people  grew  bored  and  went  away. 
As  if  they  had  all  silently  agreed  that  they  could 
no  longer  endure  one  another,  the  daily  question 
was,  "  Who  is  going  next?  "  They  no  longer  took 
any  notice  of  new  arrivals.  They  were  too  much 
concerned  with  those  who  were  leaving. 

Among  the  older  people  the  chief  subject  of 
discussion  was,  whether  one  ought  to  go  or  not  — 


u6  SANPRIEL 

among  the  younger,  how  many  of  the  farewell 
celebrations  had  been  deserved. 

Yet  there  were  a  few  who  in  a  way  found  it 
more  enjoyable  now  at  the  end  of  the  season  than 
when  there  were  so  many  there. 

Among  these  was  Marit  Hennerud,  the  young 
hostess  of  Forest  Home.  As  she  had  more  time 
then  to  be  with  her  guests,  it  was  always  toward 
the  end  of  the  season  that  she  had  her  little  love 
affairs.  Early  in  the  summer  a  certain  young  man 
had  been  very  unhappy  on  her  account;  but  she 
had  been  too  busy  then  to  give  him  any  of  her 
time.  Now,  however,  she  was  ready  for  a  climb 
up  the  mountain,  or  preferably,  for  an  evening 
row  on  the  water. 

If  it  so  happened  that  the  one  on  whom  she  had 
set  her  heart  had  to  leave  too  soon,  then  she  would 
weep  bitterly  —  as  if  death  itself  had  come  to 
her.  But  a  few  days  after  she  would  be  filled 
with  laughter  at  the  thought  of  it. 

Sometimes,  however,  the  case  seemed  more 
serious.  Then  she  would  think  that  this  was  real 
love  which  had  finally  come  to  her,  and  she  would 
confide  in  her  old  aunt.  Each  time  the  old  lady 
would  caution  her  to  be  faithful  and  constant  so 
that  it  might  come  out  all  right.  To  the  sorrow 
of  her  family  Marit  Hennerud  had  gotten  into  the 
habit  of  rejecting  her  suitors.  It  was  not  her 


SANPRIEL  117 

fault  that  love  vanished  when  it  came  too  near. 
The  little  summer  affairs  were  what  suited  her 
best. 

The  days  go  by  until  the  last  one  comes,  and 
the  last  guest  drives  off  after  the  last  friendly 
words,  "  Come  again,"  with  the  final  cheery  call 
down  the  hill :  "  For  another  summer  is  com- 
ing! " 

Then  everything  is  closed  and  locked  up,  and 
Marit  goes  down  once  more  to  the  village,  where 
the  rejected  suitors  feel  a  glow  at  the  heart  every 
time  they  look  at  her. 

This  is  the  fault  of  the  eyes  which  gaze  upon 
them  all  so  sweetly  and  so  sentimentally;  but  as 
she  herself  never  thinks  anything  about  it,  it  is 
just  as  well  not  to  try  to  make  any  change. 


II 

It  was  the  time  of  the  wild  rose. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

SO  everyone  had  gone,  each  to  his  own  home. 
And  it  was  winter. 

To  many  the  time  seemed  long.  It  grew  cold, 
and  the  days  were  short. 

Over  forest  and  mountain  desolation  reigned. 
Everything  was  closed  and  locked  up  as  though 
no  one  were  at  home.  The  trees,  wrapped  in 
their  white  mantles,  stood  there  asleep,  uncon- 
scious even  of  themselves.  No  one  spoke,  unless 
it  was  the  wind  as  it  went  prowling  around  in 
search  of  prey. 

The  snow  froze  hard,  and  gleamed  and  shone. 
It  built  a  magnificent  castle,  bringing  together 
there  gold,  and  silver,  and  diamonds.  But  it  was 
cold  in  the  great  hall,  white  and  still,  as  if  the 
Angel  of  Death  lay  dreaming  within. 

There  were  many  for  whom  the  entire  winter 
was  merely  a  period  of  waiting  until  it  should  go 
again.  At  last,  however,  a  message  came  that 
summer  was  on  the  way. 

Everything  took  on  a  different  aspect.  A  rest- 
lessness came  over  both  man  and  nature.  Out  in 
the  woods  and  in  the  meadows,  up  from  the  earth 
rose  the  sap,  bubbling  like  new  wine.  And  the 

121 


122  SANPRIEL 

longing  for  spring  broke  through  the  snow,  spread- 
ing its  blue-golden  glow  over  slope  and  hill. 

When  field  and  meadow  lay  shining  green  un-- 
der  the  white  drifts,  then  Marit  Hennerud  began 
to  grow  uneasy  down  in  the  village. 

And  when  the  warm  winds  and  the  bright  nights 
came  the  Forest  Home  Hotel  was  all  in  order, 
ready  to  welcome  the  guests  of  the  previous  year. 

One  by  one  they  came. 

Elegant  and  red-cheeked,  with  the  same  bland 
smile,  and  yet  perhaps  a  trifle  more  impressive 
than  the  year  before,  the  Adjunct  went  around 
taking  the  census. 

Yes,  they  were  there  —  all  except  Merchant 
Stern  and  his  two  hounds.  The  Adjunct  did  not 
miss  them;  but  Marit  Hennerud  and  many  others 
were  quite  concerned.  They  could  get  no  satis- 
faction from  Fru  von  Asten.  She  was  more  in- 
terested in  talking  about  the  young  engineer  who 
was  busy  inventing  a  new  instrument  of  destruc- 
tion. 

There  was  also  a  number  of  new  guests,  be- 
sides some  married  men  who  had  come  up  with 
their  wives  and  were  going  to  stay  a  few  days. 

The  season  promised  to  be  a  most  delightful 
one.  Everyone  was  in  good  humor.  They  had 
already  begun  painting  the  Falls. 

It  was  one  of  the  first  days  that  it  was  really 


SANPRIEL  123 

warm  enough  to  sit  out-doors.  They  sat  on  the 
great  veranda  in  small  groups,  talking  together. 

Fru  Thamar  Gyllenskjold  was  talking  with  her 
husband  and  had  eyes  for  no  one  else.  Fru 
Gyllenskjold's  husband  was  a  stately  looking  man. 
His  tranquil  face,  with  its  open  expression  of  force 
and  intelligence,  formed  a  striking  contrast  to 
hers,  which  was  likewise  tranquil  in  a  way.  But 
there  were  fine  lines  which  showed  how  her 
thoughts  were  given  to  subtle  change.  Some- 
thing would  flash  for  a  moment  like  the  beat  of 
a  wing,  then  vanish  almost  before  one  had  caught 
a  glimpse  of  it.  And  involuntarily  the  eyes 
would  reveal  a  consciousness  of  power  which  again 
would  quickly  disappear  in  the  splendor  of  her 
smile. 

As  she  sat  there  conversing  interrogatively  with 
her  husband,  she  was  unspeakably  fascinating. 
That  was  one  of  her  talents,  asking  people  agree- 
able little  questions  —  quite  aimlessly  for  that 
matter,  because  she  never  paid  the  slightest  atten- 
tion to  the  answer.  But  this  was  something  the 
Director  had  never  comprehended.  He  was,  in 
fact,  very  well  pleased  that  it  was  always  he  who 
must  arrange  everything,  and  that  she  was  always 
satisfied  with  whatever  he  did. 

A  short  distance  away  sat  Fru  Liss,  otherwise 
Fru  Wanda  Arescho,  with  her  dignified  and  dis- 


i24  SANPRIEL 

tinguished  husband.  He  also  was  one  of  those 
fortunate  men  who  this  year  had  been  able  to  ac- 
company his  little  wife,  and  assure  himself  that 
she  was  comfortably  located. 

Fru  Liss  was  beaming.  Her  coloring  this  year 
was  that  of  nature.  It  was  becoming  to  her,  en- 
tirely so.  She  sat  there  chattering  and  zealously 
working  her  small  fingers. 

Quite  near  them  sat  Don  Miguel,  as  carefully 
groomed  as  ever,  and  if  possible,  with  mustachios 
still  more  daringly  twisted  than  before. 

Secretary  Arescho  saw  no  one  but  his  little  wife. 
He  was  not  to  be  blamed  for  this,  since  he  was  to 
leave  the  next  day. 

There  were  some  who  thought  he  needed  to  stay 
in  the  mountains,  as  overworked  as  he  looked. 
Fru  Liss  admitted  it,  but  it  could  not  be  helped; 
Frederick  just  had  to  work.  For  that  matter, 
it  never  occurred  to  her  to  think  of  Frederick  ex- 
cept as  hard  at  work.  And  he  was  so  accustomed 
to  it;  just  fancy,  she  thought  it  did  him  no  harm. 
But  it  was  so  annoying  that  he  always  looked  so 
poorly.  Yes,  it  certainly  was  annoying  for  her. 

He  said  nothing,  only  smiled. 

Those  who  had  known  him  before  his  mar- 
riage thought  he  was  greatly  changed. 

As  an  unmarried  man  he  had  lived  with  his 
mother  and  aunt.  At  that  time  he^had  not  the 
man's  fine  reverence  for  woman  which  can  make 


SANPRIEL  125 

such  relations  so  beautiful.  Nevertheless,  they 
loved  him,  although  his  egotism  and  natural  indo- 
lence had  taught  him  to  take  things  easily,  and  to 
receive  without  taking  the  trouble  to  give  any- 
thing in  return.  Doubtless,  however,  they  knew 
that  he  was  fond  of  them. 

Now  all  this  was  changed.  Now  it  was  he  who 
had  to  think  of  others,  although  he  had  as  yet 
scarcely  begun  to  realize  it,  being  still  in  the  grasp 
of  that  sort  of  infatuation  which,  as  long  as  it 
lasts,  blinds  and  makes  a  slave  of  one.  At  times 
he  became  conscious  of  the  importance  of  all  these 
little  attentions  which  he  had  never  thought  of 
before,  and  there  awakened  within  him  a  certain 
wonder,  a  faint  perception  of  something  he  had 
once  neglected,  of  something  he  never  again  would 
have  an  opportunity  to  do. 

Just  at  this  moment  this  feeling  had  come  over 
him,  and  his  face  became  so  thoughtful  that  it  was 
not  strange  that  Fru  Liss  for  the  moment  really 
forgot  that  he  was  there  —  especially  since  Don 
Miguel,  in  his  atrocious  tenor  voice,  had  begun  to 
tell  some  of  his  malicious  stories. 

The  others  around  also  became  more  lively. 

Fru  Sahm  had  gotten  the  learned  young  doc- 
tor in  a  corner.  She  wanted  to  know  if  love  ex- 
isted in  the  secondary  period,  and  if  man  could 
be  said  to  be  a  variety,  or  an  original  species. 

In  order  to  tease  the  Adjunct,  a  young  lady  had 


126  SANPRIEL 

offered  to  deliver  a  lecture  on  a  theme  never  be- 
fore adequately  treated:  masculine  weaknesses. 

Other  young  people  had  surrounded  Student 
Adelsson,  a  dark-haired  Norlander  with  intrepid 
blue  eyes.  He  had  a  certain  cosmopolitan  air. 
He  had  been  out  in  the  world,  had  traveled  for  a 
couple  of  years,  and  had  just  now  come  straight 
from  Nice.  He  interested  them,  for  he  was  so  re- 
freshingly reckless  in  his  speech.  In  fact,  he  was 
worse  than  Omar  Pasha. 

He  glowed  with  anger  over  the  fact  that  France 
would  tolerate,  within  her  borders  so  to  speak, 
a  gambling  place  like  Monte  Carlo.  The  em- 
peror had  allowed  it  to  be  established,  but  the 
republic  ought  to  forbid  it.  It  was  a  sin  against 
humanity. 

The  next  moment  it  was  the  old  race  of  princes 
that  was  under  consideration,  as  history  shows 
it  to  us,  impoverished,  degenerated  beyond  God's 
favor.  It  seems  to  be  very  difficult  for  any  such 
to  become  even  ordinarily  honest  people,  still 
more  difficult  for  them  than  for  others  to  attain 
the  rank  of  real  men. 

Some  one  ventured  the  witty  remark  that  he 
must  be  the  only  person  who  was  in  possession  of 
his  full  senses. 

But  he  was  not  through.     He  continued: 

Down  there  he  had  met  what  to  him  was  a 

new  race  of  human  beings.  They  had  seemed 


SANPRIEL  127 

like  the  most  common  sort,  worse  than  the  poor- 
est people.  They  believed  that  Providence  had 
supplied  them  with  money,  just  so  they  might  en- 
joy themselves  —  which  they  could  not  do.  But, 
bless  my  soul,  how  they  could  bore  themselves. 
One  could  see  them  going  about  yawning  in  the 
midst  of  all  the  magnificence  of  the  world. 

The  young  ladies  thought  it  time  to  change  the 
subject,  so  they  asked  about  the  costumes  that 
were  to  be  seen  on  that  elegant  world  promenade. 

He  laughed.  Was  there  really  something  else  ? 
Yes,  he  couldn't  help  noticing  some  of  them  — 
or  rather,  some  that  were  not,  for  the  ladies  now- 
a-days  seemed  to  be  trying  to  solve  the  same 
problem  that  in  olden  times  Queen  Kraaka  was 
obliged  to  solve,  only  in  the  reverse  order:  how 
to  be  clothed  and  yet  naked.  It  was  really  won- 
derful to  see  how  respectable  women  hastened  to 
take  up  fashions  introduced  by  and  for  the  demi- 
monde. He  did  not  think  it  showed  great  intel- 
ligence, but  that  perhaps  was  a  quality  that  had 
died  out.  In  the  old  days  they  burned  clever 
women.  Then  there  was  something  he  had  no- 
ticed, the  particularly  awkward  way  in  which  they 
held  up  their  dresses.  What  has  become  of  the 
great  heritage  which  they  must  once  have  received 
from  the  Graces? 

The  ladies  withdrew.  Either  he  was  a  Bo- 
hemian, or  an  outright  socialist,  or  a  superman. 


128  SANPRIEL 

The  Adjunct,  for  the  benefit  of  Dean  Hemb, 
was  expounding  his  theory  that  a  minister's  aim 
should  be  to  make  the  higher  atmosphere  accessi- 
ble to  mankind,  while  at  the  same  time  he  should 
be  on  the  alert  for  the  needs  of  the  young.  The 
Dean  came  over  to  remonstrate  with  the  young 
man  for  his  presumptuous  words. 

The  Adjunct  laughed,  and  promising  to  keep 
silent,  placed  himself  in  the  doorway  where  he 
stood  gazing  at  Fru  Gyllenskjold.  As  he  did  this, 
he  showed  himself  so  helplessly  in  love  that  for 
a  full  fortnight  he  became  one  of  the  most  fas- 
cinating topics  of  conversation. 

The  Dean  took  the  opportunity  to  get  hold  of 
Merchant  Iversen.  Here  was  an  entirely  differ- 
ent sort  of  fellow.  With  Iversen  he  could  talk 
about  things  that  were  worth  while.  So  he  began 
with  the  subject  of  phosphate  fertilizers. 

Iversen  had  been  thinking  about  buying  some 
property  where  there  was  a  remarkably  rich  bog, 
but  Nina  didn't  like 

"  Now  if  you  could  just  give  me  your  reason 
for  it,  Nina  Mother." 

Fru  Iversen  sat  beside  her  husband,  embroid- 
ering roses  on  a  fine  net  and  had  no  ideas  for  any- 
thing else;  but  as  her  husband  grew  insistent  she 
became  somewhat  irritated. 

"  Let  me  alone,  Iversen !  Reason,  that  is  one 
of  the  worst  words  in  statistics.  But  heavens,  I 


SANPRIEL  129 

do  declare  if  there  isn't  Madame  Harder,  in  her 
black  dress,  of  course!  " 

"  Yes,"  said  a  lady.  "  People  say  that  she 
goes  calmly  about  in  mourning  for  a  man  who 
was  not  her  husband.  They  even  know  who  he 
was,  but  it  is  too  unpleasant  a  subject." 

Conversation  ceased.  It  was  very  seldom  that 
she  showed  herself  among  them. 

Even  Don  Miguel  was  silent,  although  he  had 
just  reached  the  point  of  his  story.  He  gave  his 
mustache  a  twist  as  he  stared  at  her. 

There  was  something  about  her  —  not  chic,  it 
was  something  more  — "  a  born  princess,"  one  of 
the  few  among  princesses  and  such  like,  who  really 
corresponded  to  the  idea  represented  by  the  word. 

His  eyes  followed  her  as  she  came  up  the  steps. 
No,  it  was  rather  what  one  usually  calls  regal,  the 
something  which  seemed  to  envelope  her.  It  did 
not  escape  him  either,  that  she  possessed  that  deli- 
cate, maidenly  charm  which  elderly  unmarried 
women  most  often  preserve,  and  which  married 
women  most  often  lose. 

And  he,  who  otherwise  always  knew  what  la- 
dies had  on,  did  not  notice  the  simple  black  gown 
which  had  caused  such  scandal.  He  merely 
thought  that  she  looked  different  each  time  he 
saw  her  —  so  unlike  other  good  people  whom 
one  met  and  grew  tired  of. 

It  was  really  remarkable,  for  she  was  pale  and 


i3o  SANPRIEL 

thin,  without  any  special  beauty,  and  old  looking. 
Nevertheless,  there  was  a  beauty  about  her,  about 
the  head  as  she  carried  it,  and  in  the  bright  glance, 
the  saintly  fervor.  No  woman  ever  before  had 
beguiled  Don  Miguel  into  such  meditations. 

Many  of  the  others  felt  much  the  same  way,  as 
she  smilingly  greeted  them. 

Don  Miguel  brought  out  a  chair  from  the  par- 
lor. 

She  thanked  him,  but  remained  standing  with 
her  hand  on  the  high  back. 

"  I  merely  wanted  to  say  .  .  .  there  is  a 
poor  minister's  widow  with  six  children,  living 
down  in  the  village.  Her  house  recently  burned 
down  and  she  has  lost  everything.  There  was  no 
insurance.  Do  you  not  all  want  to  do  something 
for  her?" 

Some  began  talking  about  a  subscription  list. 

"  How  terribly  sad!  "  interrupted  Fru  Liss  all 
at  once.  And  tears  seemed  on  the  point  of  start- 
ing in  her  great  blue  eyes.  "  But,"  she  added,  as 
she  folded  her  little  hands,  "  widows  invariably 
come  out  all  right.  Indeed  one  often  notices  how 
incredibly  well  things  turn  out  for  them;  so  per- 
haps it  isn't  necessary  at  once  —  just  fancy,  I 
think " 

She  stopped.  She  suddenly  remembered  what 
Fru  Gyllenskjold  had  once  said,  that  if  there  were 
no  trouble  then  no  one  would  know  that  he  was 


SANPRIEL  131 

well  off.  And  what  would  the  poets  have  to  write 
about?  All  mankind  would  die  of  ennui.  There 
really  was  something  in  it.  And  now  since  it  was 
all  ordained  .  .  .  the  Lord  of  course  had  ar- 
ranged everything  as  he  wanted  it. 

She  looked  all  tired  out  with  thinking. 

Anyway,  she  didn't  like  the  idea  of  a  subscrip- 
tion list.  If  they  really  must  do  something  she 
would  rather  have  a  bazaar.  She  could  get  out 
of  that  more  cheaply.  Among  her  talents  econ- 
omy played  an  important  role;  for  when  she 
bought  anything  for  herself  it  was  always  so  dear 
that  she  was  absolutely  obliged  to  save  when  she 
was  buying  for  others.  And  she  could  get  out 
of  this  with  some  little  trifle  if  it  only  looked 
dainty. 

So  Fru  Liss  voted  for  the  bazaar,  although  she 
really  had  thought  she  would  get  away  from  such 
things  here.  Moreover,  such  people  were  al- 
ways so  ungrateful. 

Adele  Harder  had  stood  looking  at  her  with  a 
faint  smile. 

Then  she  said: 

"  Few  people  understand  the  art  of  giving. 
One  should  give  carefully  so  as  not  to  take  more 
than  is  given,  and  thus  increase  the  suffering  which 
comes  from  being  poor.  For  one  should  give  to 
strengthen  and  heal.  Then  few  know  how  to  ac- 
cept, either.  They  are  not  sufficiently  proud,  but 


i32  SANPRIEL 

allow  themselves  to  be  humiliated.  That  ought 
not  to  be.  They  should  know  that  if  the  troubles 
of  life  are  thus  increased,  then  one  is  like  a  sol- 
dier at  a  difficult  post.  We  owe  respect  to  those 
who  hold  their  own,  and  to  those  who  suc- 
cumb. ...  If  we  can  help  someone,  then  it  is  we 
who  help  who  should  be  most  thankful.  The  joy 
of  giving  is  greater  than  that  of  receiving.  There- 
fore the  one  who  gives  should  be  thankful  to  the 
one  who  receives.  That  is  all  I  wanted  to  say." 

Don  Miguel  had  taken  a  dish  from  the  side- 
board and  was  going  around  among  the  men  who 
were  all  anxious  to  contribute. 

This  annoyed  Fru  Liss.  It  would  certainly 
spoil  their  bazaar. 

As  he  came  back  Adele  Harder  glanced  at  Don 
Miguel  in  a  surprised  way,  half  apologetically,  as 
if  conscious  of  having  done  him  an  injustice.  This 
gave  him  a  chance  to  look  into  her  eyes.  They 
were  eyes  that  at  some  time  had  wept  long,  and 
their  color  was  not  so  deep  as  it  once  was.  Yet  in 
a  moment  of  weakness  they  seemed  to  him  more 
beautiful  than  Fru  Arescho's. 

When  she  was  gone  they  began  to  discuss  her 
remarkable  doctrines.  Also  they  were  somewhat 
annoyed  as  they  realized  that  it  was  necessary  for 
them  to  do  something.  The  Adjunct's  cheeks 
were  even  redder  than  usual.  He  felt  hurt.  In 
his  own  mind  he  was  quite  convinced  that  he  was 


SANPRIEL  133 

immeasurably  superior  to  the  ordinary  person. 
Yet  at  times  he  felt  a  slight  misgiving  that  every- 
one did  not  realize  this.  As  now,  for  instance, 
when  this  lady  had  looked  at  him. 

So  he  began  to  express  his  views.  But  it  oc- 
curred to  him  that  he  might  talk  himself  out  of 
breath,  and  yet  neither  he  nor  the  ladies  would 
know  how  he  had  happened  to  discuss  evidences 
of  analogy;  so  he  closed  his  remarks  with  the 
amiable  concession  that  spiritually  strong  women 
might  rise  above  their  sex. 

Was  it  not  a  well-known  author  who  had  said 
this?  He  turned  toward  Student  Adelsson  who 
stood  near  —  one  ought  indeed  to  show  him  a  lit- 
tle consideration. 

The  young  man  passed  his  hand  through  his 
hair.  He  did  not  know,  but  he  thought  that  was 
a  set  phrase  which  ought  to  be  discredited,  for  it 
was  fundamentally  false.  It  was  always  in  his 
own  nature  that  one  attained  his  best,  and  one 
ought  to  be  prepared  to  overcome  all  limitations. 

It  was  a  satisfaction  to  contradict  the  Adjunct. 

People  began  to  rise.  They  felt  the  need  of 
moving  about. 

Fru  Liss  turned  eagerly  toward  Don  Miguel. 
'  Well,  I  must  say!     Madame  Harder  is  really 
just  too  ...  don't  you  think  so?" 

"Sure!" 


i34  SANPRIEL 

For  the  first  time  Don  Miguel  looked  at  Fru 
Liss  with  admiration  somewhat  mixed. 

Thora  Thammers  rose  and  walked  past  them. 

"  And  Fru  Thammers,"  he  said,  smiling,  "  is 
she  not  also  entirely  too ?  " 

Fru  Liss  looked  after  her. 

"  For  such  an  elderly  woman  she  is  amazingly 
slender,"  she  said,  and  grew  suddenly  thoughtful. 

She  was  a  particular  admirer  of  just  such  slen- 
derness,  and  with  a  sigh  she  glanced  down  at  her 
own  plump  little  figure.  She  had  decided  that  she 
did  not  want  to  become  stout.  She  must  take  her- 
self in  hand.  Gymnastics !  But  heavens !  What 
an  immense  amount  of  energy  that  required ! 

Nearly  everyone  had  gone  out  and  was  walking 
about  on  the  lawn. 

What  a  wonderful  day  it  had  suddenly  become, 
with  its  brilliant  sunshine  and  radiant  colors ! 
Yet  these  people  went  around  finding  fault  with 
it  to  one  another,  while  they  discussed  the  bazaar. 

Also  they  found  fault  with  the  Adjunct. 

"  Ladies,"  he  said  amiably,  "  what  is  the  cause? 
Indeed,  it  is  nothing  more  than  the  result  of  na- 
ture's laws.  If  ladies  had  the  necessary  scientific 
knowledge  they  could  easily  calculate  this.  Is  it 
not  so,  Herr  Professor?" 

Professor  Maurus,  with  hands  behind  his  back 
and  stomach  protruding,  passed  just  at  that  mo- 
ment. He  smiled  condescendingly,  but  kept  si- 


SANPRIEL  135 

lence.  For  such  things  shoujd  not  be  mentioned 
even  in  jest  —  when  it  concerned  the  ladies. 

Their  spirits  rose.  The  bazaar  got  under  head- 
way. 

Right  under  Fru  Thammers'  window  some  little 
children  were  playing: 

Thief,  oh,  thief  are  you  I  say, 

For  you  stole  my  love  away! 

But  I  have  the  hope  in  mind, 

Soon   another  one  to  find, 

So  I  think,  tralalala,  so  I  think,  tralalala! 

She  sat  there  absent-mindedly  listening  to  them. 

A  little  farther  away  they  were  weaving  the 
vadmel.1 

They  had  kept  on  with  their  weaving  the  whole 
forenoon  in  spite  of  the  rain,  and  now  they  had 
begun  again  with  unabated  zeal: 

Thus  weave  we  the  vadmel,  thus  move  we  together, 

Let  the  shuttle  go  forward. 

So  move  we  together,  and  thus  weave  the  vadmel, 

And  all  move  together, 

As  the  shuttle  goes  forward. 

They  sang  to  a  mournful  little  tune,  over  and 
over  again. 

She  sat  there  watching  them  until  she  felt  as 
though  she  were  slipping  in  with  the  endless  warp 
and  woof  —  into  eternity  itself,  silent  and  gray. 

1  A  coarse  woolen  cloth. 


136  SANPRIEL 

But  from  the  parlor  came  the  notes  of  the 
Rakoczy  march,  somber,  yet  sparkingly  brilliant, 
alluringly  wild. 

It  was  the  Norlander. 


CHAPTER  IX 

FAR  above  all  this  noise  and  confusion  lies 
Flyen,  like  a  miracle  in  the  glow  of  the  fresh 
young  summer. 

It  is  wrapped  in  splendor  from  peak  to  glacier. 
Deep  and  fragrant,  the  forest  winds  like  a  garland 
around  its  base. 

A  triumphant  joy  streams  upward  from  the 
earth.  The  sources  of  life  have  opened.  Mys- 
terious forces  have  awakened.  Up  from  the 
depths  of  the  earth  they  come,  straight  from 
Heaven's  store-house. 

The  river  announces  their  coming,  there  where 
it  lifts  its  mighty  voice  as  it  hastens  by.  The 
brooks  chatter  about  it.  The  lake  also  knows  it 
as  it  lies  there  with  its  happy  billows  shining  and 
dancing  in  the  sunlight. 

And  the  forest,  full  of  power,  and  courage,  and 
majesty,  with  its  fresh,  swelling  buds  and  rose-red 
blossoms,  knows  it.  It  understands. 

But  it  is  not  easy  to  learn  how  such  bliss  comes 
about. 

Ask  the  sun  as  he  comes  and  dispels  all  the 
dreams  that  were  woven  in  the  darkness  of  win- 
ter. Ask  him  if  he  knows  why  it  is  that  the 

137 


i38  SANPRIEL 

cuckoo  cannot  keep  from  singing,  and  why  it  is 
so  cosy  and  sweet  in  the  dark  green  depths,  that 
the  wild  wood-dove  can  never  settle  down. 

Ask  him,  for  he  gets  about  everywhere.  Out 
on  the  waves  he  is  writing  in  gold.  Ask  him  what 
it  is.  He  has  filled  the  entire  space  under  the 
heavens.  The  lark  soars  aloft  in  the  dazzling 
blue.  His  song  melts  away  into  the  rays  of  the 
sun.  No  one  knows  how  it  happens.  It  is  one 
of  summer's  secrets. 

Flyen  rises,  stretching  up  toward  the  blue. 
Everything  is  new  and  clear-cut,  soft  and  silky- 
fine. 

Perfume  is  wafted  from  the  dwarf  birch,  from 
the  juniper  and  the  heather.  And  now  that  all 
the  birds  have  come,  and  all  the  creeping  things 
have  ventured  forth,  there  is  great  press  of  busi- 
ness. 

The  air  is  full  of  slender  young  swallows  who 
must  learn  to  take  care  of  themselves.  And  down 
below  are  the  young  rabbits  hopping  about,  staring 
with  their  big  innocent  eyes;  they  have  never  seen 
this  before. 

There  is  a  rustle  among  the  hillocks.  There  is 
a  whisper,  a  soft,  happy  buzz. 

And  the  white  butterflies,  white  and  blue  —  they 
rise  and  fall,  then  rise  again.  They  do  not  know 
what  they  want.  They  cannot  bear  to  settle  down 
anywhere,  the  air  is  so  soft  and  fine. 


SANPRIEL  139 

And  the  flowers,  the  modest  little  flowers  that 
belong  to  Flyen,  they  are  almost  all  here.  Some 
of  them  are  already  scattering  their  fragrance 
about,  so  wild  and  sweet. 

But  the  bluebells  flock  together.  They  laugh 
and  shake  their  bells  in  mild  but  unrestrained  joy: 
"  We  are  holding  high  carnival  here,  we  are  hav- 
ing a  festival." 

The  others  hear  and  come,  all  the  others. 
There  are  the  yellow  St.  John's-wort  and  St.  Olaf's 
honey-white  chalice.  There  are  the  daisy  and 
the  rock-rose,  and  over  there  is  the  orchid  which 
here  and  there  has  made  itself  at  home  in  the 
rich  soil  among  the  hillocks.  It  looks  so  strange 
in  the  midst  of  all  the  others.  In  its  heart  there 
is  a  memory  —  a  vague  recollection  of  past  ex- 
periences which  it  recounts  now  in  its  own  be- 
wildering speech. 

And  hare's-foot  and  cat's-paw  trip  about  with 
light  tread.  No  one  can  hear  their  step.  Rose- 
red  and  white  they  dance  about.  All  Flyen  be- 
longs to  them 

But  listen,  all  of  you  together.  There  comes 
a  long-drawn  breath.  The  flowers  bow  their 
heads,  while  the  leaves  tremble. 

The  winds  have  come  from  both  far  and  near. 

This  is  the  little  wind  that  chases  the  silver- 
blue  shadows  over  the  mountain.  He  brings  a 
message  from  the  silken  grass  and  from  the  bright 


1 40  SANPRIEL 

marigolds.  He  steals  about  thanking  them  all 
for  the  good  times  they  have  given  him. 

Then  comes  a  wind  from  the  long  ridges  where 
the  star-flowers  shine.  He  brings  a  message  and 
greeting  from  the  wild  rose. 

And  now  comes  the  great  wind  from  far  away, 
where  the  ocean  heaves  and  tumbles  —  and 
farther  still,  from  the  broad  plains  and  vast  for- 
ests beyond  the  sea.  He  always  comes  to  Flyen. 
He  settles  down  and  rests  upon  the  heather. 

But  somewhere  among  the  hillocks  there  stands 
a  flower  which  one  wonders  about  —  a  strange 
flower  that  never  has  been  here  before.  Yet  the 
great  wind  who  has  traveled  so  far  and  has  seen 
so  much,  he  knows  where  the  flower  belongs  — 
where  its  home  is. 

"  I  know  you.  How  did  you  get  here?  You 
belong  down  under  the  great  sun.  Down  there 
you  were  clothed  in  burning  purple.  We  can't 
produce  that  color  here.  But  how  are  you?  It 
seems  to  me  you  look  rather  pale." 

The  strange  flower  shakes  its  magnificent  crown, 
and  the  most  delicate  perfume  streams  forth.  It 
is  well  content.  There  is  a  golden  inscription  on 
its  leaves.  The  burning  purple  —  the  dream 
about  the  great  sun  —  have  been  transformed  into 
a  soul. 

But  the  heather  bloom  and  the  daisy  and  the 


SANPRIEL  141 

star-flower,  all  drink  themselves  drunk  on  the 
strange  perfume. 

The  wind  passes  on. 

The  river  hastens  after.  It  carries  a  message 
to  the  sea  from  the  eternal  glacier. 

The  earth  undulates,  the  atmosphere  quivers. 
The  light  changes,  trembles  —  weaves  a  cloak 
from  the  dim  blue  haze,  plaits  a  crown  of  the  shin- 
ing sunbeams. 

A  tumult  of  soft  sounds  arises,  from  all  the 
wild  creatures,  the  flowers  and  the  leaves.  A 
golden  flood  of  light  streams  upward  and  all  is 
blended  into  one.  Flyen  is  enveloped  in  song. 


CHAPTER  X 

THIS  time  Thora  Thammers  had  been  so  for- 
tunate as  to  get  a  room  with  a  view  toward 
Flyen.  This  she  had  always  to  herself. 

Likewise  she  had  a  little  veranda  almost  en- 
tirely to  herself.  Of  the  other  two  rooms  which 
opened  upon  it,  in  one  was  a  bed-ridden  lady,  and 
in  the  other  the  young  student  Adelsson,  of  whom 
it  was  said  that  he  was  substituting  for  Omar 
Pasha.  She  saw  little  of  him. 

Strange,  how  time  passed!  She  had  already 
been  here  a  week.  This  time  she  bad  come  alone 
and  practically  against  her  will. 

Arvid  had  gone  with  a  friend  for  a  four-week 
sailing  trip,  and  Gertrude  and  Birger  had  gone  in 
different  directions.  So  all  had  thought  that  she 
had  better  come  up  here.  Anyway  it  made  no 
difference  to  her  where  she  was. 

It  had  been  a  relief  not  to  find  Merchant  Stern 
there,  although  it  was  all  the  same  anyway. 

The  ladies  had  again  begun  by  paying  her  at- 
tention. The  Dean's  wife  had  a  fresh  supply  of 
good  advice  which  surely  must  help.  Then  she 
herself,  she  thought,  had  grown  more  sensible  — 
for  instance,  she  was  much  older  than  the  year 

142 


SANPRIEL  143 

before,  so  old  that  surely  there  could  be  only  a 
few  more  pages  to  turn  in  her  book  of  life. 

That  also  was  a  relief. 

She  sat  one  afternoon  on  her  veranda.  Fru 
Thamar  Gyllenskjold  passed,  spoke,  then  stopped 
to  talk. 

—  Yes,  she  was  indeed  disconsolate  to-day,  for 
her  husband  had  just  gone. 

Thora  Thammers  thought  it  incumbent  upon 
her  to  say  some  comforting  words,  but  she  felt 
that  she  was  very  awkward  about  it.  Fru  Gyl- 
lenskjold must  think  her  a  perfect  simpleton. 

Fru  Gyllenskjold  smiled  indulgently  as  she 
looked  at  her  in  a  friendly  way. 

"  I  really  believe  that  you  are  improving. 

I  always  say  that  one  must  be  sensible  and  not 
dwell  too  much  on  one  subject,  nor  grieve  too  long 
over  anything.  That  is  injurious  to  one's  health." 

Thora  Thammers  thanked  her  smilingly  for 
the  good  advice,  for  of  course  it  was  meant  for 
her.  Fru  Thamar  Gyllenskjold  was  certainly  not 
a  simpleton. 

She  sat  there  watching  her  as  she  wandered 
down  across  the  meadow. 

It  was  such  a  pleasure  to  watch  her. 

Just  then  Student  Adelsson  came  out. 

He  had  stood  in  the  doorway  peeping  out,  and 
was  anxious  to  see  more.  He  asked  permission 
to  take  his  place  beside  her.  He  was  burning 


i44  SANPRIEL 

with  a  desire  to  go  down  across  the  meadow,  but 
did  not  dare  to  do  so.  Of  late  Fru  Thammers 
had  conversed  with  him  occasionally. 

She  was  amused  by  his  frank  dismay  over  con- 
ditions in  this  world,  by  his  passion  for  Fru  Gyl- 
lenskjold,  and  by  his  efforts  to  inspire  respect  for 
his  young  manhood.  In  all  sincerity  he  tried  to 
falsify  his  good  nature.  He  scowled  frequently, 
and  altogether  managed  to  look  so  hardened  that 
once  Fru  Thammers,  in  her  quiet,  jesting  way, 
asked  him  to  smile,  and  expressed  the  opinion  that 
some  of  the  gentler  qualities,  in  fact  many  of 
them,  also  belonged  to  manliness. 

For  an  instant  he  had  looked  at  her  coldly  — 
then  came  a  smile. 

Now  she  could  say  what  she  pleased  to  him. 
He  liked  her  all  the  better  for  it. 

Frequently  he  came  and  asked  if  he  might  bring 
her  some  books,  or  if  there  was  anything  else  she 
wanted.  Occasionally  he  brought  her  flowers. 
He  thought  she  looked  so  pale  as  she  sat  there 
alone  on  her  veranda. 

Suddenly  he  turned  toward  her. 

Would  she  permit  him  to  ask  a  question  ?  Why 
was  it  that  she  spent  so  little  time  with  the  rest  of 
the  people?  For  there  were  really  so  many  nice 
people  there,  as  Froken  Hennerud  had  said  — 
men  and  women  of  intellect;  and  here  just  the 
other  day  came  the  Danish  baroness,  and  the  Ger- 


SANPRIEL  145 

man  general  and  baron  who  had  married  a  Nor- 
wegian lady,  and  who  presented  himself  at  the 
dinner  table  in  such  great  style  —  could  it  be  a 
reminiscence  of  court  life  —  perhaps  in  the  royal 
antechamber?  Was  it  not  strange  that  so  many 
of  these  elegant  people  seemed  to  think  they  could 
get  along  with  so  little  manners?  He  thought  at 
times  that  they  had  a  very  polite  way  of  being 
rude  —  and  such  arrogance,  just  exactly  like  their 
servants.  .  .  . 

Would  she  not  tell  him?  And  also,  why  it  was 
that  she  mingled  with  them  so  seldom? 

Fru  Thammers  had  a  way  of  sitting  and  listen- 
ing while  others  talked,  without  answering.  Now 
she  smiled  at  him. 

"  Indeed,  I  will.  ...  It  is  often  the  case  that 
polish  is  merely  a,n  enamel  which  can  be  cracked, 
and  not  the  real  thing  at  all." 

'  Yes,   that  is  true.     I   can  certainly  hear  it 
when  it  cracks." 

In  his  eagerness  he  moved  his  chair  up  closer. 

"  I  can  say  this  to  you  without  your  making  fun 
of  me.  I  don't  like  to  be  with  people  who  are 
not  refined  —  and  even  those  who  are  refined  are 
seldom  enough  so.  It  gives  me  heart-burn  if  I 
am  with  them  long.  Do  you  know,  I  sometimes 
have  the  feeling  that  I  am  right  in  the  midst  of 
a  rabble  ...  an  elegant  rabble.  Yes,  you  may 
laugh — for  what  am  I?" 


i46  SANPRIEL 

"  I  do  have  to  smile.  But  you  certainly  are  a 
man  of  perception." 

"Do  you  think  so?  But  I  have  entirely  for- 
gotten to  tell  you  about  the  two  baronesses,  along 
with  Fru  Iversen.  At  first  they  treated  me  with 
very  marked  deference  because  they  thought  I  was 
the  heir  to  a  large  estate.  Now,  from  certain  in- 
formation they  have  received,  they  think  I  am 
merely  the  son  of  a  country  tradesman  and  have 
consequently  lost  all  respect  for  me.  I  think  I'll 
tell  them  that  King  Karl  Johan  once  bought  snuff 
of  my  father." 

"  Why  not  Louis  XIV,  that  would  sound  still 
better." 

He  grew  enthusiastic. 

"  Do  you  think  that  would  go?  " 

She  laughed  and  shook  her  head  —  then  took 
her  book  and  rose.  Her  happy  mood  seemed  to 
slip  away  from  her. 

He  detained  her. 

"  But  you  haven't  told  me  why  you  spend  so 
much  time  up  here  alone.  It  makes  you  so  pale." 

She  looked  at  him  gently.  "  There  comes  Fru 
Gyllenskjold.  Go  down  and  open  the  gate  for 
her.  That  is  what  you  have  been  waiting  for, 
isn't  it?" 

In  the  garden  a  little  later,  as  she  was  starting 
out  on  her  afternoon  pilgrimage,  she  met  Mer- 
chant Stern  with  one  of  his  hounds. 


SANPRIEL  147 

He  greeted  her  in  a  friendly  way  as  he  might 
have  spoken  to  Fru  Iversen,  or  as  if  he  had  com- 
pletely forgotten  her  until  he  had  accidentally  met 
her  again.  It  seemed  as  if  Donna  remembered 
her  better. 

She  wondered  over  it  somewhat,  then  went  back 
into  the  house. 

She  did  not  go  up  on  Flyen.  The  next  day  she 
stayed  in  and  wrote  letters  —  to  Arvid,  to  her 
children,  to  her  own  family,  and  to  Arvid's  sister 
and  old  aunt,  to  whom  she  had  never  before 
thought  of  writing. 

Froken  Hemb  came  up  to  borrow  a  book.  She 
was  so  disgusted.  For  Fru  von  Asten  had  quar- 
reled with  her  husband,  and  had  carried  on  so 
dreadfully  that  the  maid  had  not  dared  to  go  in 
with  the  breakfast. 

Fru  Thammers  merely  answered  with  an  in- 
credulous smile. 

But  she  knew  that  it  must  be  true  when  she 
came  down  and  saw  Fru  von  Asten  sitting  there 
embroidering  with  the  most  resigned  air,  and  so- 
licitously inquiring  after  Fru  Iversen's  little  chil- 
dren. It  was  generally  acknowledged  that  she 
was  never  so  industrious  in  her  work,  or  so  amia- 
ble in  her  manner  toward  others,  as  she  was  just 
after  an  outbreak.  And  her  husband  received 
the  benefit  of  it  all. 

"  Samuel,   I  don't  know  that  you  understand 


i48  SANPRIEL 

me,  but  I  don't  think  it  is  a  good  thing  for  you 
to  live  down  there  in  those  old  rooms  alone  with 
just  the  dogs.  I  am  sure  Froken  Hennerud  could 
manage  it  so  that  you  could  have  the  big  corner 
room  next  to  mine.  No,  I  don't  think  it  is  good 
for  you.  You  will  only  get  rheumatism  down 
there,  and  it  would  be  so  much  pleasanter  .  .  ." 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you,  Annie.  You  always 
think  of  everything  —  although  I  have  no  rheu- 
matism. Of  course  it  would  be  pleasanter  and 
more  lively.  Yes,  we'll  think  about  it." 

He  smiled  and  went  out. 

It  was  to  be  foreseen  that  Merchant  Stern 
would  take  to  the  young  Student  Adelsson. 

And  so  he  did.  It  looked  almost  as  though 
he  had  withdrawn  in  his  favor.  He  saw  to  it  that 
Adelsson  had  a  chance  to  talk,  and  protected  him 
so  that  it  was  impossible  for  the  Adjunct  to  pun- 
ish him,  even  when  he  deserved  it;  or  for  Pro- 
fessor Maurus  to  give  full  expression  to  his  con- 
tempt. 

In  return  he  was  blindly  worshiped  by  Student 
Adelsson. 

One  day  he  told  the  young  ladies  that  he  con- 
sidered him  head  and  shoulders  above  the  other 
people.  This  made  them  angry.  They  thought 
it  was  a  slight  directed  at  them,  and  they  com- 
plained to  Fru  Gyllenskjold. 


SANPRIEL  149 

She  laughed. 

"  C'est  son  tigre  de  Nubie  —  il  n'est  pas 
mort " ;  and  Student  Adelsson  had  received  his 
name. 

Now  that  Omar  Pasha  had  come  things  grew 
more  lively.  Fru  Gyllenskjold  as  well  as  the  rest 
of  the  ladies  became  much  gayer.  There  were 
some  who  thought  that  he  was  even  more  fas- 
cinating than  the  year  previous.  He  was  no 
longer  so  impossible  —  he  left  that  to  his  young 
friend. 

Then  there  was  something  peculiar  about  his 
gayety  —  a  mysterious  warmth.  They  knew  it 
was  Fru  Gyllenskjold.  They  were  greatly  ex- 
cited and  began  to  feel  sorry  for  the  Director 
who  had  looked  so  satisfied  and  secure. 

Merchant  Stern  had  been  there  several  days 
and  was  quite  at  home  again.  He  amused  him- 
self with  the  young  girls,  went  walking  with  Fru 
Gyllenskjold,  and  accepted  good  advice  from  the 
Dean's  wife. 

Thora  Thammers  met  him  frequently  in  the 
morning  at  the  breakfast  table,  or  on  the  veranda 
at  afternoon  coffee. 

There  was  not  the  least  indication  that  there 
had  ever  been  an  exchange  of  passionate  words 
between  them.  His  voice  was  gay  and  light,  as 
though  he  thought  of  nothing  beyond  what  he 
was  saying,  and  then  only  of  one  thing  at  a  time ; 


i5o  SANPRIEL 

while  hers  —  she  herself  could  feel  how  heavy 
it  was  with  the  shadows  of  the  past. 

Of  course  this  was  merely  because  she  was  mor- 
bid. 

Without  giving  herself  any  reason  for  it  she  did 
not  go  up  on  Flyen  during  this  time. 

Then  she  asked  herself  what  she  meant  by  it. 
Such  precaution  was  entirely  unnecessary.  Were 
they  not  through  with  one  another  anyway? 
And  would  not  life  soon  be  at  an  end  for  them 
both? 

What  did  she  want?  To  read  his 

thoughts?  To  measure  the  depths  of  his  soul? 
Was  he  not  just  what  he  ought  to  be?  Did  she 
want  to  begin  it  all  over  again?  Or  did  she  want 
to  avenge  herself  on  him?  No,  she  did  not  — 
but  nevertheless,  the  last  word  had  not  been  said. 
There  was  a  smart  back  of  it  all,  where  the  fire 
of  remorse  was  burning. 

She  almost  laughed  one  day  when  she  heard 
him  explaining  to  Froken  Hemb  that  one  had  no 
right  to  be  melancholy.  For  one  thing  it  was  an 
unbecoming  criticism  of  the  Creator,  and  for  an- 
other it  merely  wore  one's  nerves  out. 

Fru  Iversen  came  up.  She  agreed  with  him 
entirely.  She  never  took  anything  to  heart  ex- 
cept when  it  was  fairly  convenient.  She  called 
it  having  presence  of  mind. 

Fru  Thammers  arose  and  went  out. 


SANPRIEL  151 

How  fortunate  for  Samuel  Stern  that  he  had 
Fru  Iversen!  How  they  must  enjoy  one  an- 
other ! 

Later  in  the  day  it  grew  hot.  They  sat  out- 
side on  the  lawn  and  drank  their  afternoon  coffee. 
The  ladies  sat  around  the  big  table  while  the 
gentlemen  walked  about. 

They  talked  about  religious  matters  and  about 
dress,  and  about  a  minister  who  had  the  faculty 
of  expounding  so  that  even  quite  ordinary  people 
could  comprehend  the  deepest  questions  of  the 
soul. 

Fru  Iversen  confessed  that  she  had  honestly 
tried  to  fix  her  gaze  upon  the  unseen,  but  that  it 
was  difficult.  This  human  life  is,  as  everyone 
acknowledges,  a  most  remarkable  enigma.  As 
for  Fru  von  Asten,  the  charming  thing  about  her 
was,  that  she  was  always  so  easily  satisfied  about 
everything  that  could  not  be  seen. 

Fru  Liss  sat  there  decked  out  in  every  way  to 
deceive  the  eyes  of  the  men  who  looked  upon 
her. 

The  General  stood  near.  He  could  not  keep 
away  from  her. 

She  sat  there  playing  with  a  meek  little  kitten, 
with  black  paws  and  pink  ears. 

"  No,  Tullemand,  you  are  entirely  too  charm- 
ing. How  can  you  say  such  things,  Froken 
Hemb,  that  you  believe  in  man's  natural  deprav- 


i52  SANPRIEL 

ity!  People  are  really  good,  I  think,  at  any  rate 
in  cultured  families." 

She  looked  so  pious  and  so  charming  as  she 
said  this,  with  the  soft  shadows  of  her  long  eye- 
lashes falling  on  her  cheeks. 

The  General  was  impressed. 

"  Good  books?  "     She  turned  toward  Fru 

Sahm  who  thought  it  was  very  difficult  to  know 
what  one  ought  to  read.  "  Heavens !  That  is 
not  difficult.  If  the  papers  don't  speak  well  of 
a  book  I  don't  touch  it." 

Then  she  turned  again  toward  the  General  and 
assured  him  that  she  had  no  idea  of  north  and 
south.  She  had  no  sense  of  direction. 

The  General  thought  that  divine. 
.  Yes,  but  Student  Adelsson  was  scandalized,  and 
said  that  was  something  that  the  smallest  insect 
had.     He  thought  she  hadn't  even  the  intellect 
of  an  insect. 

Student  Adelsson  just  at  that  moment  was  hold- 
ing forth  on  politics  to  a  group  of  young  people. 
They  heard  his  loudly  expressed  hope  that  France 
would  have  enough  sense  not  to  start  in  with  the 
Bourbons  again. 

The  General  cast  a  threatening  glance  at  him, 
not  because  of  the  Bourbons,  but  because  his  whole 
manner  was  so  irritatingly  disrespectful.  And  he 
assured  Fru  Arescho  that  in  Germany  such  people 
would  not  be  allowed  to  go  around  loose. 


SANPRIEL  153 

A  little  farther  away  Professor  Maurus  and 
the  Adjunct  were  entertaining  one  another  dis- 
cussing social  questions. 

Many  of  the  gentlemen  had  joined  the  com- 
pany, and  finally  Merchant  Stern  came.  In  his 
usual  manner  he  began  to  contradict,  then  seemed 
slightly  annoyed,  a.nd  finally  ended  by  becoming 
quite  jolly. 

Neither  the  Professor  nor  the  Adjunct  enjoyed 
this.  The  Professor  could  not  bear  to  be  drawn 
into  Merchant  Stern's  fun-making.  He  found  it 
agreeable  only  when  it  was  directed  toward  others. 
The  Adjunct's  smile  became  weak  and  uncertain. 
He  glanced  helplessly  about  as  if  looking  for  as- 
sistance. 

In  front  of  them  lay  Wolf,  yawning,  yet  listen- 
ing attentively  to  it  all. 

Coming  from  one  of  the  out-buildings  was  heard 
Donna's  howl. 

Froken  Hemb  had  gone  to  give  her  some  bread, 
but  when  she  found  the  door  locked  so  that  she 
could  not  get  in,  in  an  access  of  misplaced  kind- 
ness she  had  filled  the  key-hole.  And  Donna, 
who  had  recognized  the  odor  of  the  fresh  coffee 
cake,  had  lost  all  self-control. 

Thora  Thammers  rose,  went  over  and  took  the 
bread  out,  then  stood  talking  with  Froken  Hemb. 

Now  Fru  Gyllenskjold  rose. 

She  had  sat  there  on  her  own  bench  resting. 


1 54  SANPRIEL 

She  went  into  the  house  and  then  came  out  again. 
She  glanced  casually  at  the  gentlemen  who  were 
so  busily  talking. 

Merchant  Stern  came  over  to  her. 

"  And  they  strove  against  the  Philistines  and 
David  became  tired.  Now  you  shall  rest.  It 
pleases  me  most  graciously  to  command  you  to 
take  a  little  walk.  Have  I  not  told  you  to  let 
the  Adjunct  alone?  You  are  getting  into  the 
habit  of  committing  too  many  crimes." 

He  laughed.  "  But  if  the  crimes  have  become 
habits  they  can  no  longer  be  recognized  as  crimes. 
It  has  pleased  your  eyes  to  be  mistaken,  Madame. 
For  that  matter  you  surely  heard  how  gay  we 
were.  We  were  cultivating  human  joy,  even  the 
Professor  in  his  faint-hearted,  superior  way.  .  .  . 
And  that  is  what  one  ought  to  do.  One  should 
never  scorn  light  joys." 

They  started  down  toward  the  meadow.  Mer- 
chant Stern  turned  and  whistled. 

Wolf  got  up,  stretched  himself,  walked  over  to 
Fru  Thammers  and  wagged  his  tail.  It  was  a 
friendly  invitation  to  go  along  with  them,  but  it 
was  not  accepted. 

Fru  Thammers  stood  for  a  moment  talking 
with  Froken  Hemb  and  watching  them.  She  had 
heard  all  that  was  said  and  she  felt  a  certain  pang. 

Jealous  of  Fru  Gyllenskjold  and  the  young 
girls?  She  was  forced  to  laugh  at  herself. 


SANPRIEL  155 

She  went  up  to  her  room,  took  up  a  hand  mir- 
ror and  gazed  at  herself.  There  was  need  for 
it.  Yes,  there  were  many  tiny  wrinkles.  And 
her  eyes  —  how  long  since  they  had  taken  on  that 
strangely  distressed  expression? 

There  came  to  her  mind  one  night  ...  it  was 
soon  after  Birger  was  born  .  .  .  Arvid  had 
awakened  as  she  lay  there  sobbing.  Was  it  after 
that  night?  That  was  a  long  time  ago.  What 
had  he  said  to  her,  he,  who  worshiped  human  joy 
—  who  never  allowed  any  of  the  light  joys  to 
pass  him  by? 

He  had  once  begged  her  for  an  answer.  Now 
he  had  completely  forgotten  it.  He  was  a  sensi- 
ble man 

She  still  stood  with  the  mirror  in  her  hand, 
looking  at  the  sharp  lines  about  the  mouth  which 
seemed  to  grow  deeper  as  she  gazed. 

She  began  taking  walks  again  and  she  spent 
more  time  with  the  others  down  below.  Occa- 
sionally she  would  take  a  stroll  with  Student 
Adelsson. 

They  thought  she  was  becoming  more  lively 
and  was  looking  better.  The  Dean's  wife  thought 
it  was  the  hot  water. 

She  no  longer  took  any  pains  to  avoid  Samuel 
Stern.  Whenever  they  met  they  talked  together 
carelessly  and  gayly,  about  anything. 


156  SANPRIEL 

At  table  she  had  taken  a  seat  beside  Fru  Iver- 
sen.  Near  them  was  Merchant  Stern,  which  Fru 
Iversen  considered  great  good  luck. 

So  they  talked  about  the  food,  about  the  dogs, 
about  the  wind,  and  about  the  weather.  Fru 
Iversen  had  never  known  before  that  it  was  so 
pleasant  to  talk  about  wind  and  weather. 


CHAPTER  XI 

IT  was  evening.  She  stood  at  her  window  look- 
ing out. 

The  moon  came  up  blood-red  over  Flyen.  She 
stood  there  watching  the  long,  sinking  shadows. 
There  came  over  her  a  longing  for  the  flowers 
and  all  the  rest  up  there.  She  had  not  been  up 
there  for  a  week. 

She  went  down  and  found  the  garden  empty. 
In  the  big  hall  they  had  begun  dancing. 

But  when  she  came  up  there  —  all  was  so  won- 
derfully still.  Apparently  not  a  living  thing  was 
near.  They  had  all  gone  to  rest. 

Involuntarily  she  walked  softly,  for  along  the 
path  she  saw  the  flowers  with  bowed  heads  and 
folded  leaves.  She  moved  as  in  a  darkened  land 
where  thousands  of  little  homes  were  closed  and 
barred. 

A  strange  mood  took  possession  of  her. 

She  sat  down,  resting  her  head  against  a  stump, 
and  gazed  out  toward  the  white  mountain,  up 
toward  the  heavens  where  the  evening  red  was 
dying  away. 

She  thought  some  one  was  coming. 

As  she  sat  there  listening  she  lost  consciousness. 
157 


i58  SANPRIEL 

Yes,  it  was  Night.  Upon  her  brow  was 

the  glow  of  the  eternal  snows.  The  heavens  low- 
ered and  she  stepped  down,  while  the  earth  was. 
filled  with  her  wonderful,  glorious  light.  .  .  . 
There  it  came  from  the  mountain  ridge,  in  long, 
whispering  billows 

High  above  her  head,  far,  far  away,  she  heard 
the  sound  of  another  world,  a  world  she  once  had 
longed  for,  but  never  had  been  able  to  attain. 
The  air  was  full  of  a  strange  splendor,  a  silent, 

dreamy  splendor and  there,  far  away,  was 

the  golden  land  of  her  childhood.  She  wanted 
to  ask  the  way  thither.  She  would  ask  the  great 
mountains  that  looked  out  over  the  earth  and  up 
into  the  heavens  —  she  would  ask  them  the  way 
to  the  land  which  belonged  to  her.  She  would 
climb  the  mighty  steps  of  the  heights  and  see 
whither  they  led.  .  .  . 

Again  some  one  came  with  silent  step.  It  was 
the  great  Hougfrue  who  ruled  over  Flyen.  She 
recognized  her,  for  Sjur  had  told  her  about  her. 
In  her  hand  she  carried  a  green  twig.  It  was  a 
magic  wand,  and  everyone  who  looked  upon  it 
came  into  her  power. 

A  shiver  passed  through  her  as  she  came  under 
the  spell. 

The  Hougfrue  came  straight  toward  her,  and 
as  she  stood  directly  in  front  of  her  Thora  felt 
impelled  to  bow  low. 


SANPRIEL  159 

"  You  see,  I  belong  to  you;  you  must  help  me," 
she  said  softly. 

"What  do  you  wish?" 

Her  heart  burned  within  her. 

"  I  have  a  great  longing." 

The  Hougfrue  looked  at  her  with  eyes  that 
were  dark  and  full  of  power. 

"  What  is  it  you  long  for?  " 

She  stretched  her  arms  out  toward  her. 

"  For  that  which  I  cannot  have  —  for  that 
which  belongs  to  eternity." 

The  Hougfrue  touched  her  with  her  wand  and 
her  eyes  were  mild. 

"  But  you  must  arouse  yourself  and  act  —  other- 
wise your  wish  will  not  be  granted,"  she  said,  and 
passed  on. 

She  watched  her  as  she  moved  across  the  moor, 
gliding  silently  over  the  long  billows  of  heather 
bloom.  Wherever  her  foot  had  trod  lay  colors 
she  never  had  seen  before,  and  there  where  she 
disappeared  from  sight  the  low  hillock  was  en- 
veloped in  flame 

Now  some  one  else  was  talking  to  her,  this  time 
a  human  being. 

She  had  not  .noticed  when  he  came.  She  saw 
that  he  sat  by  her  side,  but  she  was  not  surprised. 
Nothing  surprised  her  as  she  sat  there,  powerless 
to  free  herself  from  the  dreamy  spell  which  had 
been  cast  upon  her. 


160  SANPRIEL 

"  What  are  you  doing?  "  he  asked,  in  a  voice 
so  mild  and  full  of  warmth  that  it  seemed  to  creep 
right  into  her  heart. 

She  knew  it  was  Samuel  Stern.  She  saw  the 
handsome  mouth  with  the  gentle  expression  which 
had  belonged  to  it  long  ago,  in  the  days  of  his 
youth. 

She  was  not  surprised  to  see  him,  nor  was  she 
surprised  by  the  fact  that  he  sat  there  talking  to 
her.  She  continued  to  stare  straight  before  her. 

"  What  are  you  doing?  "  he  asked  again. 

"  I  am  listening  to  the  winds,"  she  said  quietly. 

He  moved  forward  slightly. 

"What  do  they  say?" 

"  Ah,  they  come  so  heavily  laden !  " 
'  You  are  mistaken,"  he  said.     His  voice  grew 
soft  and  trembled. 

"  No !  "  she  said,  "  there  is  the  ocean  wind  that 
knows  everything.  Then  there  is  the  little  wind 
from  the  valley  which  steals  what  has  been  sighed 
forth  to  the  wakeful  night  and  bears  it  hither." 

He  bent  toward  her. 

"  I  knew  you  would  come  here  again,"  he  said. 

But  somewhat  to  his  surprise  he  saw  that  she 
had  not  heard  him  at  all. 

"  Then  there  is  the  Bergefrue  .  .  .  she 

has  been  here."     She  said  this  as  in  a  dream,  and 
nodded  slowly  as  she  spoke. 


SANPRIEL  161 

"And  she  has  touched  you  with  her  wand! 
Yes,  this  is  indeed  her  realm." 

His  voice  sounded  as  though  he  were  glad  about 
something.  Her  mood  took  hold  of  him.  Sud- 
denly it  seemed  to  him  that  they  were  back  again 
in  the  days  of  their  youth,  when  they  roamed  about 
together  and  he  was  imprisoned  by  her  fancies. 
Here  indeed  was  sacred  ground  where  they  could 
meet  .  .  .  far  removed  from  life. 

"  I  see,"  he  repeated  and  laughed.  "  The 
Bergefrue's  wand  has  come  near  you." 

"  But  everything  is  changed  here,"  he  added. 
"  Everything  is  different." 

She  glanced  up  and  shook  her  head. 

"  Yes,  here  people  live  what  is  in  their  thoughts 
and  in  their  dreams,  that  which  forms  an  under- 
current of  song  throughout  the  whole  of  life. 
Here  they  have  to  be  honest  with  one  another." 

She  looked  at  him  in  silent  wonderment,  only 
half  hearing  what  he  said. 

"  Do  you  see,  down  there  all  is  closed  and  dark; 
but  here  in  the  home  of  the  fairies,  all  is  opened  up 
for  us.  Here  the  air  is  warm,  and  there  is  shelter 
from  the  nor'wester.  Here  we  can  wander  about 
again  in  the  old  paths.  We  can  tell  one  another 
a  little  of  everything  —  obtain  a  respite  by  telling 
stories  as  she  did,  the  death-doomed,  for  her  Sul- 
tan. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about?     Do  you  know 


162  SANPRIEL 

anything  that  is  good  to  think  upon  when  the 
nights  are  long?  Why  did  you  come  here 
again?  " 

A  tremor  passed  over  her  face.  Her  eyes  grew 
big  and  tired. 

"  I  wanted  to  find  something,"  she  said  slowly. 
"  What  was  it?  I  do  not  know.  No  —  I  do  not 
know  whether  I  know  —  I  thought,  perhaps,  it 
was  here  —  for  it  was  nowhere  else." 

She  gazed  into  space. 

"  Now  I  know!     I  wanted  to  rest." 

"  You  shall  tell  me  something  else,  about  the 
happiness  you  have  found." 

She  shrank  back  timidly.  An  uneasy  expres- 
sion came  over  her  face. 

"  Happiness?  I  do  not  know  what  that  is.  I 
have  forgotten  what  I  thought  it  was." 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 
'What  do  you  want?     You  disturb  me,"  she 
said  softly. 

'  That  time  you  dreamed  your  sun-dream  .  .  . 
what  was  it  like?  " 

She  turned  toward  him  and  laughed. 

"  One  must  not  dream  —  it  is  too  costly.  It 
takes  away  what  one  has  and  then  all  is  gone." 

'*  What  have  you  experienced  of  life's  beauty?  " 

"Life's  beauty?"  she  whispered.  "Yes! 
There  was  gloom  before  it  came  —  and  horror 
when  it  went.  So  I  have  forgotten  that  also." 


SANPRIEL  163 

There  was  silence. 

He  watched  her  as  she  sat  there  seemingly  hav- 
ing forgotten  that  he  was  there.  How  could  she 
look  so  childish?  How  did  it  happen  that  she 
held  her  head  in  such  a  way?  He  could  think 
of  nothing  but  a  flower. 

"  Tell  me  another  story,"  he  said  gently.  "  Re- 
member, it  is  not  the  same  here  as  it  is  down  be- 
low. Here  the  door  that  leads  out  is  closed,  and 
the  one  that  opens  into  hidden  thoughts  and 
dreams  is  opened.  Bright,  white-winged,  they  fly 
about  you,  all  those  fancies  that  came  to  you  when 
it  was  spring.  Here  Time  does  not  exist,  there- 
fore nothing  can  come  to  an  end." 

Again  she  grew  restless.  She  rose,  but  sat 
down  again.  The  expression  on  his  face  seemed 
to  compel  her  to  remain. 

"  You  know,"  he  continued,  "  if  people  are 
touched  by  the  green  wand  their  eyes  are  opened. 
They  can  see  one  another.  Tell  me,  what  do 
you  see  ?  " 

She  sat  for  a  little  while  as  if  she  were  consid- 
ering. 

"  Yes,  I  have  to  laugh,  for  there  is  one  who  is 
so  happy  that  he  cannot  see  when  tears  and  blood 
are  dripping.  That  is  because  he  has  never  taken 
anything  to  heart." 

"  You  are  telling  it  wrong." 


1 64  SANPRIEL 

"  No,  that  is  correct.  I  am  not  a  man,  so  I 
cannot  forget — " 

"  But  you  have  indeed  forgotten  the  old  song, 

Then  am  I  most  joyous 
When  most  I  am  oppressed ! 

"  You  do  not  know  that  there  is  a  man  who  has 
fought  far  into  the  heat  of  the  day  countless  num- 
bers of  times;  who  has  said  to  himself,  '  This  that 
I  do  to-day,  this  that  I  think,  I  shall  never  do 
again  —  this  is  indeed  the  last  time.'  Yet  he  has 
done  it  over  and  over  again.  The  last  time  never 
comes.  That  makes  him  heavy  at  heart.  .  .  . 
Now  you  must  tell  me  something  you  know. 
Where  have  you  been  all  this  long  time?  " 

"I?  I  have  gone  about  searching  .  .  .  There 
was  something  I  had  lost.  I  could  not  find  peace. 
At  night  ...  I  could  not  lie  in  my  bed.  I  would 

go  out  where  it  was  dark '  There  must  be 

some  one  who  can  help  me,'  I  thought;  but  no  one 
could.  '  Let  me  go,'  I  begged  — '  I  pray  you,  let 
me  go !  I  want  to  go  in  there  where  all  is  de- 
serted ...  I  want  to  go  in  to  the  withered  leaves, 
to  all  that  which  once  was  green,  but  is  so  no 
longer ' 

'  Then  I  came  out  into  the  great  desert,  and 
Night  came  to  me.  She  closed  her  heavy  eyes 
.  .  .  and  I  prayed  that  no  one  might  disturb  me 
Then  some  one  said :  '  Why  are  you 


SANPRIEL  165 

grieving?  Because  some  leaves  have  withered,  a 
song  has  died  away,  and  lights  have  burned  out? 

Such  indeed  is  life !  ' But  I  went  on.  I  had 

no  peace.  Then  one  came  in  the  gloom  and  said 
to  me:  'What  are  you  looking  for?  It  would 
be  better  for  you  to  go  with  me,  then  perhaps  you 
will  find  something  to  help  you.'  It  was  Sorrow 
who  took  me  by  the  hand  and  led  me  into  her 
realm  so  full  of  abysses,  leading  ever  farther,  far- 
ther down 

"  And  I  went  down  .  .  .  That  is  why  I  came 
here  last  year  .  .  .  because  I  had  been  there. 
...  I  needed  to  rest." 

He  wanted  to  say  something,  but  she  stopped 
him. 

She  pressed  her  hands  to  her  brow. 

"  For  I  was  so  tired.  I  found  nothing  to  help 
me.  My  eyes  could  see  nothing."  She  shook 
her  head.  "  And  now  I  want  nothing  more." 

She  had  spoken  heavily,  indistinctly,  as  if  the 
words  had  pressed  forth  against  her  will. 

She  rose. 

"  I  must  go,"  she  whispered  almost  inaudibly. 

"  No !  '  He  made  her  sit  down  again. 
"  Now  it  is  I  who  must  tell  a  story,  one  that  is 
true. 

"  It  was  one  evening  here  on  Flyen.  A  man 
came  up  and  paid  his  respects  to  all  around,  greet- 
ing them  and  expressing  his  thanks  for  the  pleas- 


1 66  SANPRIEL 

ure  they  had  given  him.  They  returned  his 
greeting  and  told  him  that  she  was  there.  He 
knew  that  she  would  come.  The  man  wandered 
about  in  the  beautiful,  lonesome  night.  He  lis- 
tened to  the  birds  and  to  the  flowers  that  were 
sleeping.  He  thought  they  must  all  be  dreaming 
of  her 

"  That  man  was  one  who  had  gone  far  astray. 
He  dared  not  stand  in  her  presence,  for  fear  she 
would  avenge  herself.  She  might  come  upon  him 
when  he  was  weak  and  tired  and  might  terrify 
him. 

"  He  also  had  traveled  the  dark  road.  Many 
are  the  paths  that  lead  into  the  land  of  Sorrow. 
He  likewise  had  suffered.  There  was  some  one 
he  had  lost.  He  had  inquired  along  the  way: 
'  What  has  become  of  you.'  But  no  one  ever 
answered." 

She  sat  motionless,  with  bowed  head  and  hands 
folded  on  her  knee.  Then  she  rose  slowly. 

'  You  must  let  me  go.  I  can  listen  no  longer. 
It  is  all  so  strange,  everything." 

He  also  rose. 

"  I  know  another  story  that  is  more  amusing. 
I  will  tell  it  to-morrow  evening.  Remember  that 
you  are  to  come  again  for  the  sake  of  my  story, 
and  anyway  you  will  have  to  come  since  you  are 
under  the  influence  of  the  Hougfrue." 

She  did  not  answer.     Neither  of  them  spoke 


SANPRIEL  167 

again.  He  followed  her  down  to  the  door  where 
he  bade  her  good-night. 

When  she  had  reached  her  room  she  remained 
standing  for  a  moment  quietly. 

Then  she  went  over,  and  opening  the  window 
looked  out. 

She  must  rouse  herself.  She  must  bring  her- 
self down  to  realities. 

The  fog  had  risen  from  the  valley  and  wrapped 
itself  about  the  mountains,  hiding  Flyen.  Soft 
and  white  it  crept  in  among  the  houses.  Every- 
thing big  was  hidden;  but  all  the  little  things,  the 
houses,  the  gate,  the  trees,  all  these  had  increased 
most  wonderfully  in  size  and  seemed  to  grow  right 
out  of  the  all-pervading  white  mist. 

Everything  real  seemed  to  have  been  changed 
into  a  something  without  a  name,  into  a  dream 
which  had  taken  possession  of  the  innermost  re- 
cesses of  her  brain.  She  could  not  comprehend 
it. 

"  Why  do  I  need  to  trouble  myself  about  it?  " 
she  said  finally,  when  at  last  she  had  lain  down. 
"  He  is  indeed  a  strange  being." 

The  next  day  Fru  Thora  Thammers  had  such 
dark  rings  under  her  eyes  that  the  Dean's  wife 
called  her  to  account,  in  particular  with  regard 
to  the  hot  water. 

The  Dean's  wife  was  somewhat  like  Fru  von 


1 68  SANPRIEL 

Astcn  in  the  tyrannically  officious  way  in  which 
she  looked  after  those  whom  she  liked  best. 

She  was  fortunate  also  in  getting  Fru  Tham- 
mers  to  see  what  was  good  for  her,  and  also  to 
understand  that  it  was  her  moral  duty  to  stay  at 
the  house  that  evening.  After  the  bazaar  they 
were  going  to  dance. 

When  evening  came  she  was  there.  She  sat 
looking  on.  Dance  music  always  made  her  mel- 
ancholy, as  also  did  watching  the  dancing.  The 
tears  came  to  her  eyes.  This  was  ludicrous,  of 
course. 

Samuel  Stern  was  dancing  with  Fru  Iversen 
and  seemed  to  be  enjoying  himself.  Afterward 
he  came  over  to  her. 

"What  are  you  pondering  over?  You  ought 
to  be  dancing.  It  would  do  you  good." 

She  smiled  faintly. 

"  It  is  lively  here,  but  I  do  not  see  why  it  is  so 
necessary  to  laugh  and  make  such  a  noise.  They 
are  certainly  not  all  so  utterly  happy." 

She  was  not  thinking  of  the  others,  but  of  him 
as  she  spoke. 

He  laughed. 

"  Oh,  yes,  that  is  true,  but  then  we  are  under 
no  obligation  to  feel  this  joy  for  any  length  of 
time.  I  would  not  even  vouch  for  five  minutes. 
You  shake  your  head  rather  scornfully  it  seems 
to  me.  You  think  it  is  pretence.  You  are  mis- 


SANPRIEL  169 

taken,  for  we  really  are  in  good  spirits.  It  is  a 
sort  of  decoration  to  one's  life.  It  does  not  go 
very  far,  but  then  one  has  no  other  expedient. 
Human  beings  are  indeed  poor  in  one  sense  or  the 
other.  So  one  must  be  sensible  and  get  along 
with  what  one  has.  See  Student  Adelsson  who 
has  received  permission  to  dance  with  Fru  Gyl- 
lenskjold.  He  is  overjoyed.  And  among  the 
others  who  are  going  the  rounds  there  are  cer- 
tainly some  who  are  fully  as  happy  as  he,  if  not 
more  so.  Heavens!  How  far  one  can  go  at 
times!  " 

She  laughed.  That  quiet,  restrained  voice  with 
its  low,  sweet  tones,  was  well  suited  to  laughter. 

"  Yes,  you  are  right,"  she  said.  "  That  is  quite 
convincing." 

"  There,  Don  Miguel  is  playing  his  insufferable 
waltz.  You  won't  dance,  I  know.  I  have  prom- 
ised Fru  Iversen  to  show  her  some  pictures  I 
have  at  the  cottage.  Will  you  go  with  us?" 

Fru  Iversen  came  up  just  at  that  moment,  and 
together  they  went  over  to  the  cottage  to  see  the 
pictures. 

One  was  a  Madonna  by  Crivelli,  a  fragile, 
slightly  bent  figure  with  pale,  sorrowful  face. 
Yet  there  was  a  secret  charm  about  her,  a  sweet- 
ness in  the  glance  half  cast  down. 

"Goodness,   she   is   certainly   not  handsome !  " 


1 70  SANPRIEL 

broke    out    Fru    Iversen.     "  Pardon    me,    but    it 
seems  to  me  she  looks  like  Fru  Thammers !  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,  too.  And  here,  this  is  St. 
Francis.  According  to  tradition  he  is  on  a  visit 
to  a  cloister  where  they  cultivate  thorns  in  order 
to  do  penance  with  them.  He  changes  them  into 
roses." 

"  I  could  love  him  for  that.  To  be  comfort- 
able ought  to  be  one's  chief  aim  in  life  I  think. 
And  Heaven  knows  it  is  a  blessing  that  they  can 
find  something  to  paint  besides  these  everlasting 
Madonnas.  Pictures  of  men  are  always  decora- 
tive." 

Merchant  Stern  went  over  to  Fru  Thammers 
who  still  stood  in  front  of  the  Madonna. 

'  You  look  as  though  you  were  thinking  that 
you  would  not  come.  Remember,  a  spell  has  been 
cast  upon  you." 

"  I  would  like  to  hear  the  story,"  she  said 
quietly.  "  It  may  amuse  me.  It  is  my  chief  aim 
also,  to  have  everything  as  pleasant  as  possible." 


But  the  story  was  not  told  that  evening.  It 
was  not  ready  —  nor  was  it  the  next  evening. 
There  was  always  some  excuse  for  putting  it  off. 

A  fortnight  passed.  Thora  Thammers  had 
not  yet  had  an  opportunity  to  say  what  she  wanted 


SANPRIEL  171 

to  him,  and  then  to  tell  him  that  now  this  chap- 
ter must  be  closed.  That  was  what  she  had  in- 
tended to  say  the  next  evening,  but  she  had  not 
done  so. 

For  that  matter,  why  should  she  not? 

Indeed,  it  amused  her  to  watch  him,  as  he  was 
down  below  in  the  daytime,  and  then  up  there  in 
the  evening.  Down  below,  how  careful  he  was 
that  no  one  should  suspect  he  had  any  feeling. 
Everything  was  made  light  of,  or  turned  into  a 
jest. 

And  now  —  just  when  it  looked  as  though  they 
might  consider  themselves  as  ordinarily  good 
friends  —  his  sudden,  inexplicable  change,  his 
holding  back  as  if  he  had  bethought  himself,  and 
was  careful  on  her  account.  It  occurred  to  her 
that  he  was  afraid  that  she  would  take  his  words 
too  literally,  and  think  that  he  might  fall  in  love 
with  her  again. 

He  certainly  did  not  know  how  experienced  she 
had  become,  nor  how  much  she  knew  of  the  world. 
Nor  did  he  know  that  she  could  not  believe  a  sin- 
gle word  of  his,  not  even  in  her  innermost  heart. 
It  was  a  pity  he  did  not  know  how  safe  he  was, 
that  he  need  take  no  precautions  on  her  account. 

But  nevertheless,  although  she  would  not  ac- 
knowledge it  even  to  herself,  she  suffered  when 
she  saw  him  devoting  himself  to  two  young  girls, 
who  were  boldly  making  love  to  him.  She  could 


172  SANPRIEL 

not  express  to  herself  how  his  light,  irresponsible 
manner  irritated  her. 

But  then  up  there  —  she  forgot  it  all  again 
.  .  .  and  all  the  time  that  had  passed  .  .  .  and 
everything  that  had  happened.  And  it  seemed 
to  her  that  there  were  only  they  two,  and  that 
all  was  as  it  once  was,  and  that  she  could  sit  there 
forever  and  let  life  quietly  burn  itself  out. 

It  must  have  been  the  fault  of  the  evening;  for, 
as  the  sun  sank  and  all  grew  solemn  and  still, 
blood-red  rays  streamed  across  the  slope,  leaving 
lurid  stains  on  the  heather. 

It  was  the  summer  night  which  lured  forth  the 
bright  spirit  of  youth.  Mystic  characters  were 
spread  out  before  them.  The  Bergefrue  had 
touched  them  with  her  wand. 

As  the  days  went  by  they  seemed  to  live  a  sort 
of  enchanted  life  up  there  on  the  heights,  side 
by  side  with  the  everyday  prose.  Down  below 
by  day  he  was  Omar  Pasha,  taken  up  with  a  thou- 
sand different  things  —  up  there  in  the  evening, 
on  the  borders  of  the  Promised  Land,  his  coun- 
tenance was  changed.  He  resembled  the  one  she 
once  had  dreamed  about.  Ah,  why  had  he  not 
at  that  time  spoken  these  same  deep  words  which 
now  so  strangely  moved  her  soul ! 

How  he  could  sit  and  talk  about  all  the  little 
things  on  Flyen,  and  at  the  same  time  about  those 


SANPRIEL  173 

of  the  past  —  with  something  in  the  background 
which  gave  color  to  the  whole ! 

There  were  moments  that  came  to  her  as  some- 
thing beautiful  she  once  had  experienced  in  a 
dream.  She  felt  sorry  for  everyone  who  was  in 
trouble  and  could  not  come  up  here  to  rest. 

She  wondered  over  her  previous  fear  of  him  — 
and  her  caution. 

Yet  when  he  said,  "  Come  up  this  evening  at 
sunset,  I  have  something  to  tell  you,"  she  thought 
each  time  that  she  would  not  go.  But  she  could 
not  help  herself.  She  was  in  the  current  of  a 
stream  which  was  carrying  her  gently  on. 

Then  there  was  so  little  to  the  day.  She  went 
about  so  tired.  It  seemed  to  her  that  her  senses 
were  not  all  awake.  Up  there  it  was  better.  She 
forgot  —  that  was  good  for  her.  And  besides, 
it  would  soon  all  be  over  anyway. 

A  reckless  feeling  took  possession  of  her.  Life, 
the  reality  of  happiness,  she  had  never  known. 
Therefore  she  could  not  grudge  herself  these 
ghostly  fancies  which  faded  away  when  the  sun 
rose.  That  which  was  not,  was  nevertheless  the 
best  thing  she  had. 

They  had  a  certain  power  to  entertain  one  an- 
other, that  was  all  it  amounted  to.  They  were 
two  old  people  playing  at  fairy  stories,  some  very 
harmless  fairy  stories  that  had  grown  out  of  life's 


i74  SANPRIEL 

pain  .  .  .  pale  little  blossoms  that  took  on  color 
only  when  touched  by  the  last  rays  of  the  sun. 

Oh  yes,  they  were  indeed  subjects  for  mirth, 
he  as  well  as  she.  She  was  certain  that  in  secret 
he  was  amused  over  her,  and  she  again  for  her 
part,  over  him. 

Anyway,  that  was  what  one  was  here  for. 


CHAPTER  XII 

ONE  day  the  entire  party  decided  to  make  an 
excursion  to  a  dairy  up  in  the  forest,  where 
they  were  to  eat  cream  porridge  and  look  at  an 
old  cheese  press. 

Fru  Thammers  had  promised  the  Dean's  wife 
that  she  would  go  along,  and  afterward  when 
Merchant  Stern  asked  her  she  told  him  also  that 
she  would  go.  Then  she  repented.  All  at  once 
it  seemed  impossible  for  her  to  go. 

They  were  just  getting  ready  to  start.  Marit 
Hennerud  had  gone  up  before,  so  as  to  be  ready 
to  receive  them. 

Thora  Thammers  met  Fru  Iversen  in  the  gar- 
den. "  Tell  them  that  I  have  gone  on  ahead," 
she  said. 

But  down  under  the  slope  she  turned  aside,  and 
found  a  place  where  she  could  see  the  road  without 
herself  being  seen.  From  this  point,  with  secret 
pleasure  she  watched  them  all  go  off  together. 

Yes,  it  was  all  right.  There  were  Samuel  Stern 
and  Fru  Thamar  Gyllenskjold.  It  looked  as 
though  he  were  in  high  spirits.  He  certainly 
seemed  very  much  at  ease  with  Fru  Gyllenskjold. 
She  was  quite  pleased  over  her  little  trick.  He 

175 


i76  SANPRIEL 

probably  had  not  once  noticed  that  she  was  not 
there. 

The  thought,  however,  that  she  never  again 
could  trust  herself,  came  to  her  with  a  strange 
pang.  For  those  evenings  up  there  .  .  .  those 
soap-bubbles  which  they  had  blown  for  one  an- 
other's amusement,  which  had  amused  her  because 
she  had  nothing  else  .  .  .  perhaps  he  was  even 
now  amusing  himself  as  well  as  Fru  Gyllenskjold 
over  the  fact  that  she  had  been  so  taken  up  with 
the  affair.  Her  distrust  of  him  became  so  strong 
that  it  suddenly  stripped  the  glamour  off  from 
everything. 

Now  this  also  was  ended! 

She  asked  herself  sarcastically:  where  indeed 
did  she  find  herself  now?  She  certainly  had 
known  there  was  nothing  in  the  whole  affair. 
Why  had  life  become  interesting  to  her  again? 
Should  she  never  be  done  with  all  this? 

She  rested  her  head  on  her  hands. 

Those  evenings  had  been  to  her  like  a  resurrec- 
tion—  like  a  fountain  of  youth  bubbling  up  from 
the  depths  of  the  earth  —  a  golden  dusk,  filled 
with  the  fancies  of  the  heart,  with  words  that  had 
been  remembered,  words  that  had  been  forgot- 
ten. .  .  .  Cautiously  and  shyly  they  had  come, 
borne  on  the  wind  which  glided  softly  about 
them.  .  .  .  And  then  had  come  mute  words, 
words  that  were  not  spoken,  but  were  there. 


SANPRIEL  177 

She  clung  to  the  thought  that  they  were  not 
spoken ;  but  what  difference  did  that  make  so  long 
as  they  were  there? 

She  grew  helpless  at  the  thought  of  it. 

Yes !  She  was  tired  of  herself.  Such  a  heart 
as  hers  ought  to  save  itself  every  distress,  every 
burning  sorrow  —  for  it  was  always  the  same, 
always  so  painfully  alive,  always  so  greedy  and 
desirous  of  life. 

What  was  this  she  had  heard  about  the  "  peace 
of  old  age  "?  Where  was  it?  It  was  well  for 
her  that  she  had  determined  that  this  should  end. 

She  sat  with  her  chin  resting  in  her  hand,  smil- 
ing quietly. 

She  could  not  get  away  from  the  thought  of 
those  evenings  up  there.  It  seemed  as  if  all  the 
silent  spirits  of  Flyen  had  played  on  their  heart- 
strings, and  amid  all  the  discord  had  found  their 
way  into  the  harmony  of  their  souls.  From  all 
this  had  arisen  new,  deep  tones.  A  flower  had 
sprung  up  in  the  bright  night.  A  rare  blossom  — 
a  nameless  bud  —  had  put  forth  amid  those  mag- 
ical surroundings. 

Ah,  but  she  had  to  laugh !  By  day  everything 
was  closed  and  ended.  They  were  merely  two  old 
people  going  about  with  no  concern  for  one  an- 
other. 


i78  SANPRIEL 

She  rose  and  went  on,  up  over  the  slope. 

To-day  she  was  sure  of  being  alone.  To-mor- 
row perhaps  she  would  meet  them  on  Flyen,  Fru 
Gyllenskjold  and  Omar  Pasha. 

It  began  to  rain.  She  sat  down  under  a  fir  tree 
and  listened  to  the  soft  patter  of  the  rain  with  a 
feeling  of  pleasure.  The  warm  odor  of  the  rip- 
ened grass  was  wafted  toward  her  .  .  .  and  the 
cool  fragrance  of  berries.  And  the  moor  —  so 
far  as  sight  could  reach  it  lay  like  a  dark  blue  sea. 

It  grew  lighter.  The  air  was  solemn  and  full 
of  music.  She  seemed  to  hear,  coming  from  the 
innermost  depths  below,  a  soft  but  mighty  sound, 
rising,  falling,  like  the  drawing  of  deep  breath. 
It  must  be  the  earth. 

And  from  beyond  came  the  deep  voice  of  the 
river  ...  to  be  sure  it  was  always  there,  but 
now  it  seemed  to  force  itself  upon  her.  .  .  .  And 
all  around  was  something  ceaselessly  whispering. 

The  water  rocked  noiselessly  below.  It  rose 
and  fell,  rose  and  fell  again.  The  heavy  billows 
seemed  to  throw  themselves  straight  up,  rolling 
in  everywhere.  She  must  go,  for  certainly  more 
rain  was  coming.  But  she  did  not  stir.  She  sat 
there  watching  the  waves  as  they  slipped  along, 
heavily,  noiselessly.  It  reminded  her  of  a  story 
she  once  had  heard  when  a  child. 

There  was  a  sailor  who  was  returning  home 
after  having  been  away  for  a  long  time.  He  hur- 


SANPRIEL  179 

ried  on  toward  the  country  parish,  the  home  of  his 
youth.  He  could  not  sleep  at  night  for  joy.  He 
thought  of  a  little  cabin  where  flowers  grew  about 
the  door  .  .  .  and  of  Mother  within,  and  of 
Dordi,  his  heart's  dearest. 

So  on  he  went  day  and  night,  asking  everyone 
he  met  if  they  knew  his  home  district.  And  if 
any  one  did  happen  to  know  it,  he  would  fairly 
beam.  How  was  it  now  in  the  land  of  his  youth? 
Did  the  sun  shine  in  at  his  mother's  window  as 
it  used  to  ?  Was  the  moss  growing  on  the  door- 
step? And  the  little  blossoms  around,  were  they 
as  fresh  and  blue  as  ever?  Did  they  come  up 
every  year  as  they  used  to  in  the  old  days?  And 
the  folks  up  there,  were  they  just  like  they  used 
to  be,  brave  and  strong,  with  the  same  steadfast 
mind,  and  with  hearts  that  were  big  and  warm, 
like  Dordi's  and  Mother's? 

No  one  could  answer  all  these  questions.  He 
had  to  hurry  on  to  see  for  himself.  He  had 
walked  for  days  and  nights.  His  feet  were 
swollen,  but  he  did  not  notice  it.  He  could  not 
stop  for  joy.  Before  daylight  he  reached  a  little 
cliff  right  above  his  mother's  cabin 

The  sun  came  up  —  but  it  did  not  shine  on  the 
window  panes.  He  could  not  see  his  mother's 
cabin. 

Then  suddenly  he  grew  very  tired.  He  had  to 
sit  down.  And  it  was  a  long  time  before  he  was 


i8o  SANPRIEL 

sufficiently  rested  to  go  down  below  into  the  val- 
ley. But  when  he  got  there  he  could  not  find  his 
mother's  cabin.  It  was  not  there.  There  was 
no  moss  on  the  steps  and  no  flowers  about. 

An  old  man  came  and  took  him  by  the  hand. 

"  I  saw  it  was  you.  It  is  queer  that  you  should 
come  back  here." 

"  Where  is  my  mother's  house?  " 

"  You  can  see  for  yourself.  It  is  burned 
down." 

"  Where  is  Mother?  " 

"  Oh,  she  is  resting!  "  He  pointed  in  the  dis- 
tance where  the  church  spire  was  shining.  "  She 
is  better  off  there  under  the  old  birch  tree." 

"And  Dordi?" 

"  It  was  some  time  after  you  left  that  she  went 
off  with  a  strange  fellow.  Do  you  see?  " 

He  laughed. 

"  And  you  say  that  to  my  face !  Thanks ! 
That  is  queer  —  but  tell  me,  where  is  the  moss 
that  grew  on  the  doorstep?  And  where  are  the 
flowers  with  the  deep  blue  cups  —  I  must  know 
that  first  .  .  .  those  that  came  up  every  year 
about  the  door?  " 

No  one  answered  him.  The  old  man  had  gone 
on. 

He  had  to  sit  down  on  a  big  stone  beside  the 
doorway.  He  smoothed  it  all  round  with  his 
hands. 


SANPRIEL  181 

"  So  you  are  still  here.  You  know  me  again, 
don't  you?" 

The  sun  went  down  while  he  sat  there.  And 
when  it  came  up  again  he  sat  there. 

'  You  must  let  me  sit  here.     I  am  tired." 

And  evening  came  and  he  saw  the  sun  set. 

"  Do  you  intend  to  start  out  again?  I  ought 
to  go  also.  I  ought  to  go  over  to  the  old  birch 
tree  and  greet  Mother,  but  I  am  not  good  for 
anything." 

She  could  remember  what  a  fearful  impression 
the  story  had  made  on  her.  She  had  been  put  to 
bed  with  a  fever.  The  whole  night  she  saw  the 
sailor  sitting  there  on  the  stone.  She  had  wept 
and  prayed  that  some  one  would  take  him  in. 

She  began  to  think  over  all  that  human  beings 
must  suffer.  It  seemed  to  her  she  could  endure  it 
no  longer.  Without  knowing  it  she  began  to 
weep. 

She  thought  everything  around  was  complain- 
ing. She  heard  all  the  voices  clamoring  together, 
one  indistinguishable  from  the  other. 

She  must  ask  them  about  it:  "Little  flower, 
why  are  you  so  sad?  Why  do  you  complain?  I 
see  from  your  leaves  that  you  are  all  of  a  tremble. 
Why  are  you  so  cold  and  white?  Is  it  the  big 
wind  that  travels  through  the  heavens?  Has  he 
told  you  of  the  sorrow  that  fills  the  universe,  even 
up  to  the  highest  clouds? 


1 82  SANPRIEL 

"  But  it  may  not  be  so  bad  as  you  think.  I  will 
ask  the  forest:  Why  do  you  stand  there  listening 
so  gloomily?  " 

Ah,  she  knows  well  enough.  ...  It  hears  the 
groans  down  below,  deep  down  whence  it  fetches 
its  strength.  It  is  the  earth  which  has  drunk  too 
much  blood.  Man  has  no  reverence  for  her,  but 
she  will  avenge  herself. 

She  grew  afraid. 

"  How  strange  it  is  on  Flyen  to-day!  Is  some 
one  dying?  I  want  to  get  away  from  here.  I 
long  for  the  sea." 

And  she  felt  that  she  must  tell  them. 

"  My  friends,  I  know  that  I  am  ungracious. 

But  you  must  forgive  me,  for  I  have  suffered.  I 
am  in  such  great  distress.  I  am  surrounded  by  a 
gloom  which  never  seems  to  lighten 

"  But  far  out  yonder  is  the  sea.  It  has  great, 
heaving  billows  that  will  quench  the  burning  fire  — 
You  must  forgive  me  —  but  I  long  for  the  sea." 

She  blushed  as  she  said  it.  She  blushed  for 
Flyen's  sake.  He  lifted  his  voice  and  spoke  re- 
provingly : 

"  Did  I  not  take  you  in  my  arms  when 

you  came?  Did  I  not  watch  over  you  while  you 
rested?  My  broad  billows  of  living  trees,  my 
ocean  of  blossom  and  leaf,  did  they  not  take  you 
to  themselves?  Have  you  not  learned  to  inter- 


SANPRIEL  183 

pret  their  words  so  full  of  meaning?  And  when 
the  Evening-red  harnesses  her  steeds  to  her  golden 
chariot,  and  the  doors  of  heaven  open,  do  you  not 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  shining,  eternal  way?  Of 
what  moment  is  the  fate  of  an  insignificant  human 
being  that  you  should  always  have  that  in  mind?  " 
"  Forgive  me,  great  Flyen.  You  silent  forest 
and  all  you  little  flowers  hereabouts  —  I  belong 
to  you,  I  am  listening.  I  will  hide  myself  in  the 

heather  —  I  have  forgotten  the  sea." 

<, 

Toward  evening  as  the  sun  went  down  it  cleared 
off. 

She  still  sat  there  thinking  of  many  things. 

She  must  go  home  to  Arvid,  who  still  belonged 
to  her.  He  was  her  husband.  It  was  true  he 
was  not  at  home. 

Then  she  would  go  home  to  her  two  children; 
for  she  had  two  children.  They  ought  to  know 
that  they  had  a  mother.  It  was  true  they  were 
not  there  either. 

Wolf  came  and  licked  her  hand.  She  drew 
herself  together  suddenly. 

"  Why  are  you  here?  I  thought  you  were  up 
at  the  dairy." 

She  saw  Samuel  Stern  coming  in  the  distance. 
As  he  came  nearer  a  bitterness  against  the  man 
arose  within  her.  It  was  with  difficulty  she  kept 
from  shrieking  aloud. 


1 84  SANPRIEL 

Wolf  surmised  nothing.  After  two  weeks  of 
peaceful  intercourse  he  thought  all  was  amicable. 
So  he  sat  quietly  down  as  was  his  custom,  with  his 
head  on  her  knee. 

But  long  before  Samuel  Stern  reached  them,  he 
saw  that  he  was  not  welcome.  With  concern  he 
noticed  the  far-away  expression  and  the  wearied 
air.  For  she  had  been  sitting  there  the  entire 
afternoon.  When  he  came  up  he  took  his  cue 
from  Wolf  and  acted  as  though  there  were  noth- 
ing amiss. 

"  Yes,  I  stole  away  just  as  you  did.  You  set 
me  a  good  example." 

She  said  nothing.  The  flowers  in  her  hand 
dropped  down  over  Wolf. 

'Why  are  you  sitting  here  in  such  dejection? 
Is  it  your  thoughts  that  weigh  you  down?  " 

She  sighed  and  half  turned  her  head. 

"  I  never  think." 

'  There  you  are  right.  One  can  easily  accus- 
tom one's  self  to  that.  But  why  did  you  not  go 
with  us?  We  had  a  very  pleasant  time.  The 
Professor  talked  about  realities,  the  Adjunct  about 
the  higher  transcendental  sight,  and  Fru  Sahm, 
one  of  the  latest  fruits  of  woman's  admission  to 
higher  education,  discussed  whether  man  should 
be  looked  upon  as  a  variety,  or  the  beginning  of  a 
species.  .  .  .  You  ought  to  have  been  there." 

She  looked  at  him  shrinkingly. 


SANPRIEL  185 

"  It  seems  to  me  you  are  rather  frivolous." 

"  Dear  me,  that  is  a  bad  habit  of  mine.  Do 
you  think  I  ought  to  break  myself  of  it?  " 

An  uneasiness  came  over  her.  She  wished  she 
had  gone  before  he  came. 

He  sat  there  watching  her  restless  movements. 
He  wanted  to  take  one  of  her  hands  and  hold  it 
still.  "  You  seem  uneasy.  Where  is  your  body- 
guard —  the  white  butterflies,  I  mean?  " 

She  did  not  answer. 

He  had  come  merely  because  he  wanted  to  hear 
her  voice  again  —  to  see  if  it  would  take  on  the 
same  expression  that  it  had  the  last  time,  just  as 
she  left. 

As  they  had  sat  there  during  those  evenings, 
her  voice  had  produced  an  overpowering  effect 
upon  him.  It  had  come  to  him  through  the  dusk, 
with  its  peculiarly  closed  sound,  like  something 
mysterious  from  another  world.  She  had  given 
it  an  expression  that  he  did  not  recognize  —  soft 
and  restful  like  the  note  of  a  silken  string  rising 
from  dreamy  depths.  It  had  set  him  all  a  quiver. 

He  moved  a  little  nearer. 

"  Say  something.     Talk  a  little." 

She  bent  down,  plucked  a  flower,  and  murmured 
something  in  a  low  voice. 

He  could  not  hear.     He  leaned  forward. 

"You  are  unhappy.  What  is  it?  Is  it  the 
wind  again?  " 


1 86  SANPRIEL 

He  rose  and  sat  down  beside  her. 

"  What  is  it?  "  he  asked  again.  "  Is  it  a  differ- 
ent arrangement  of  molecules  that  you  want?  Is 
it  not  cold  and  damp  here?  Are  you  comfort- 
able?" 

She  smiled  dully.  "  I  am  wonderfully  fortu- 
nate. Everyone  knows  that." 

"  I  am  not  coming  here  any  more,"  she  said 
suddenly,  in  a  harsh  voice.  "  It  is  not  at  all  amus- 
ing." 

"  I  pity  Arvid!  "  she  continued. 

"  Certainly  Arvid  is  to  be  pitied.  They  are 
always  to  be  pitied,  these  poor  men  who  have 
wives  they  don't  understand.  Whose  fault  is  it?  " 

She  grew  embarrassed  and  repented  what  she 
had  said.  It  was  something  entirely  different  she 
had  intended  to  say  to  him,  but  now  she  could  not 
remember  a  word  of  it. 

He  leaned  toward  her. 

"  The  whole  earth  rests  in  peace.  There  is 
mercy  here  also  for  the  unrighteous.  Let  us  take 
things  calmly.  Is  it  not  good  to  be  up  here?  I 
never  waste  a  good  opportunity  —  it  is  never  sure 
of  returning  —  in  fact  it  never  comes  again." 

He  looked  at  her  with  concern. 

"  I  think  one  should  fortify  oneself  against  all 
melancholy  —  against  the  hour  of  great  loss. 
Otherwise  one  may  enter  into  the  land,  against  his 


SANPRIEL  187 

will,  whence  it  is  difficult  to  find  his  way  out 
again. 

"  I  once  knew  a  man.  He  was  not  of  the  heroic 
type.  He  was  created  for  big  things  but  was 
forced  to  live  in  narrow  surroundings.  The  little 
town  and  his  work  tortured  him.  Then  one  sum- 
mer-time he  came  up  here.  He  had  to  get  away 
from  people.  Up  here  he  was  happy.  He  could 
laugh  and  make  merry.  Here  he  could  use  the 
big  measuring  stick,  he  said.  So  he  went  about 
among  the  white  summits  always  alone.  One  day, 
just  before  he  was  to  go  back  to  school,  he  went 
too  far  in  —  and  never  came  back  again." 

She  turned  toward  him  quickly  and  passionately. 

"  I  pity  human  beings,  both  those  who  remain 
where  they  are  placed,  and  those  who  go  too  far 
in  ...  those  who  do  wrong  and  those  who  are 
wronged!  It  is  hard  to  live !" 

"  It  certainly  is  not  always  so  exquisitely  de- 
lightful. But  there  are  people  whose  lives  are 
full  of  suffering  and  who  nevertheless  are  happy. 
That  is  because  they  know  how  to  live " 

Again  he  leaned  forward  and  gazed  at  her  with 
eyes  that  had  drawn  far  in  beneath  the  heavy 
brows. 

u  You  asked  me  once  how  I  had  become  what 

I  am I  ask  you,  how  did  you  become  what 

you  are? 


i88  SANPRIEL 

"  I  must  tell  you  something.  I  have  dis- 
covered that  there  is  a  kind  of  woman  —  yes, 
there  are  certain  women,  who,  if  happiness  comes 
to  them,  do  not  have  the  courage  to  accept  it. 
They  have,  in  fact,  fancied  it  would  be  different. 
There  is  a  watchful  something  within  which  says 
no,  something  coldly  distrustful  which  doubts 
everything.  And  happiness  goes  away  —  per- 
haps to  return  again  —  and  then  disappear  as  be- 
fore. But  some  time  will  be  the  last." 

"Was  that  a  story?" 

"  No,  an  experience  from  life." 

She  turned  toward  him  with  suppressed  irrita- 
tion, while  a  glimmer  of  scorn  came  into  her  eye. 

"  I  know  another  kind  of  woman.  I  once  knew 
a  young  girl.  There  was  one  who  said  to  her: 
'  You  are  like  a  flower,  the  most  delicate  on  earth 
—  one  that  is  not  rooted  to  the  spot  like  other 
flowers,  but  is  on  its  flight  toward  heaven.' 

'The  young  girl  laughed  and  said:  'Yes,  I 
am  the  white  Iris.  I  stand  and  dream  my  white 
dream,  and  when  the  sun  goes  down  I  shall  lift 
my  wings  and  fly  toward  heaven.' 

'  Then  he  said  to  her  again:  '  You  are  more 
than  the  white  Iris.  You  are  my  sacred  flower, 
you  are  the  Lotus.' 

'  I  know  it,'  she  said,  and  laughed.     '  I  am 
fair  and  delicate.     I  am  the  Lotus.' 

'  Then  Time  came  marching  by  and  wanted  to 


SANPRIEL  189 

take  her  with  him.  *  But  I  don't  believe  that  is 
suitable  for  me,'  she  said.  '  You  know  I  am 
young  and  slight,  and  I  am  waiting  for  my  friend.' 
*  You  must  follow  me,'  said  Time,  '  wherever  I 
lead.'  .  .  . 

'  Then  she  laughed  again  and  said:  *  That  is 
not  my  road.  I  have  a  friend  —  and  along  our 
path  the  wild  roses  grow.' 

'  Then  it  was  Time  who  laughed,  for  the  friend 
of  her  heart  was  not  there.  And  Time  took  her 
by  the  hand  along  the  dark  way.  Stains  appeared 
on  the  white  wings  which  did  not  bear  her  up." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  pitiful  smile. 

He  sat  with  his  face  in  his  hands.  Then  he 
looked  up.  Her  face  had  grown  strangely  pale 
and  shining. 

They  sat  there  in  silence  for  a  time. 

Again  he  looked  at  her. 

"  I  also  knew  a  young  girl  once.  .  .  . 

'  Her  voice  was  sweet  and  low.' 

"  I  shall  call  her  Sanpriel.  I  do  not  know  the 
name,  but  as  a  schoolboy  I  read  somewhere  that 
the  most  beautiful  woman  was  called  Sanpriel, 
and  I  believed  for  a  long  time  that  it  was  true. 
Do  you  understand?" 

"  Of  course." 

She  just  would  not  listen  to  him. 

"  She  also  had  a  friend.     And  there  was  an 


1 90  SANPRIEL 

old  parsonage  garden  where  lime  trees  stood. 
They  went  there  one  bright  summer  afternoon. 
The  long  branches  of  the  trees  touched  the  ground, 
but  they  could  see  the  meadows  through  them. 

"  Sanpriel  stood  looking  out  with  head  bent,  as 
if  listening.  Her  eyes  looked  as  though  she  had 
forgotten  that  he  was  there,  he  who  was  her 
heart's  friend. 

"  '  What  do  you  see  ?  '  he  asked. 

"  '  Only  the  white  mist.  It  is  hiding  the  flow- 
ers from  us.' 

"  '  That  only  makes  their  fragrance  all  the 
sweeter.' 

"  They  walked  on.  Her  eyes  grew  big  and 
dark  as  though  her  soul  lay  dreaming  within. 

"  '  Sanpriel,  what  is  it?  ' 

"  '  It  is  only  the  moon  that  is  coming  up  out 
of  the  forest.' 

"  Her  friend  walked  by  her  side.  He  was  so 
full  of  longing  he  wished  that  he  might  hinder 
the  flight  of  time.  He  thought:  '  She  does  not 
love  me  enough.'  He  wanted  to  kneel  at  her 
feet.  He  wanted  to  take  her  hands  in  his  and 
kiss  them  a  thousand  times.  But  there  was  some- 
thing about  her  that  held  him  back.  He  did  not 
dare.  He  only  looked  at  her  as  she  walked  along 
with  head  bent,  as  if  listening. 

'  Sanpriel,  what  do  you  hear?  ' 

'  It  is  the  wind  passing  over  the  tender  grass. 


SANPRIEL  191 

And  out  there  is  the  little  bluebell  ringing  its  Ave 
Maria.' 

'  Sanpriel,  I  am  freezing  right  here  in  your 
presence !  Let  me  feel  the  warmth  of  your  sun 
upon  me ! ' 

"  But  she  did  not  answer.  She  walked  along 
as  she  listened.  Then  tears  came  into  his  eyes. 

"  '  Sanpriel,  why  do  you  ponder  over  so  many 
things?  You  do  not  love  me.  You  are  flying 
on  the  wings  of  fancy  far  out  into  space.  You 
are  never  near  me.' 

"  Then  she  turned  toward  him  and  whispered : 
'  But  it  is  you  of  whom  I  am  thinking.' 

"  '  Yes,  but  you  are  not  here  with  me.' 

"  '  But  I  am  coming.  Do  you  not  see  that  I 
am  coming?  ' 

"  *  No,  I  do  not  see  —  you  are  not  coming,  you 
are  going.' 

"  Then  she  turned  toward  him  with  a  smile : 
'  You  must  wait  —  only  be  patient.' 

"  But  the  young  man  could  not  be  patient.  Na- 
ture was  surging  within  him.  He  was  bewildered 
by  life,  and  came  upon  evil  things  while  he  waited. 
Then  it  was  that  she  should  have  come,  but  she 
did  not.  She  stood  afar  off." 

Thora  sat  leaning  against  a  stone  as  though 
overcome  by  weariness.  She  had  closed  her  eyes, 
but  through  the  lids  she  felt  his  burning  gaze. 

She  certainly  could  endure  no  longer  his  sitting 


1 92  SANPRIEL 

there  staring  at  her.  She  must  quiet  her  heart. 
She  would  pay  no  further  heed  to  anything  he 
might  say.  She  would  go. 

She  straightened  up  and  glanced  hastily  at  him. 
There  was  an  expression  about  his  mouth  that  she 
had  known  in  the  past,  an  expression  of  uncon- 
trolled, passionate  will. 

She  tried  to  rise  and  go,  but  she  could  not.  His 
gaze  held  her. 

"  I  do  not  like  such  stories,"  she  said  weakly. 

"  No,  that  is  an  old  story.  Here  is  one  that 
is  newer. 

"  It  was  many  years  after.  Sanpriel  had  grown 
pale.  Her  eyes  were  more  silent  than  ever.  Be- 
hind them  lay  a  soul,  still  dreaming.  It  had  never 
been  awakened. 

'  There  was  some  one  who  had  seen  her  — 
long,  long  before.  When  he  saw  her  thus  again 
his  heart  trembled  within  him.  He  wished  that 
he  might  lay  himself  at  her  feet.  But  she  did  not 
see  him.  She  did  not  know  him,  for  she  had 
never  done  more  than  converse  with  him  at  a  dis- 
tance. She  did  ,not  notice  that  his  heart  trem- 
bled within  him.  She  had  withdrawn  into  her  own 
chamber. 

"  So  he  went  out  across  the  meadows.  The 
flowers  were  having  a  gay  time  celebrating  the 
arrival  of  the  white  clover. 

'Then  he  said  to   them:     'Steal  in   and  lay 


SANPRIEL  193 

your  little  hands  on  her  sorrow.  There  where 
the  wound  is  deepest,  creep  in  and  cover  it  with 
your  rosy  fingers.' 

"  For  the  white  clover  is  the  most  cunning  flower 
on  earth.  So  long  as  it  blossoms  sorrow  is  not 
so  dark.  And  they  lured  her  out  again  into  the 
bright  day. 

"  Then  he  said  humbly :  '  I  sent  them  to  you 
with  a  message.  What  did  they  say  to  you?  ' 

"Then  she  laughed  and  said:  'I  must  have 
dreamed  once  on  a  time  that  there  was  something 
that  had  burned  into  my  soul.  Also  I  thought: 
"  The  deepest  of  waters  cannot  cool  me,  nor  can 
any  remedy  be  found  for  this  grief  of  the  soul." 
But  now  they  all  tell  me  together  that  it  is  not 
true.  There  is  a  remedy  for  everything.' 

"  Then  he  fell  down  before  her. 

"  '  Do  you  not  know  me?  It  is  not  you,  but  I 
who  have  passed  through  the  great  fire.  Deep 
waters  cannot  cool  me,  you  alone  can  do  that ' 

"  Now  you  may  finish  the  story.  Why,  why 
did  you  go  away  that  time?  Do  you  understand 
now,  how  unjust  you  were,  going  without  allowing 
me  to  say  a  word?  Do  you  understand  how  you 
sinned  when  you  went? 

"  Sanpriel,  you  tremble  and  are  white.  Tell 
me  that  now  you  know  that  I  loved  you.  You 
stand  there  with  the  dream  in  your  eyes.  Awake ! 
Speak  to  me! 


i94  SANPRIEL 

"  I  can  see  that  you  think  I  am  not  in  my  right 
mind  —  what  difference  does  it  make  if  I  am 
happy,  if  I  can  imagine  for  a  moment  that  I  am 
happy." 

She  rose.  The  anguish  within  her  seemed  to 
stiffen  her  like  a  frost. 

"  I  must  go.  It  is  growing  so  dark,  like  win- 
ter. Surely  a  storm  must  be  coming." 

He  laughed. 

"  Do  you  not  see  how  bright  and  pleasant  and 
quiet  it  is?  Winter,  you  say?  Do  you  not  see 
the  sun  and  the  flowers  growing  all  around?  " 

He  became  lost  in  thought  and  sat  staring  at 
her  like  one  under  a  spell. 

She  breathed  quickly  and  her  voice  came  sharp 
and  hard. 

"  I  think  it  is  time  for  us  to  come  back  to  reali- 
ties." 

He  rose.  His  eyes  grew  deep  and  burning  un- 
der the  heavy  brows. 

'  Yes,  that  which  we  both  recognize,  that  which 
forms  the  substance  of  our  poor  lives  .  .  .  which 
cannot  be  seen  by  dull  eyes,  or  perceived  by  cold 
hearts  .  .  .  that  powerful,  eternal  reality  within 
us,  let  it  conquer  for  life  and  death,  let  us  experi- 
ence it  in  all  its  joy  and  terror " 

There  arose  within  her  an  intense  and  merciless 
desire  to  speak  the  truth,  the  cold,  hard  truth, 
which  could  hurt  others  as  well  as  herself. 


SANPRIEL  195 

11  It  is  laughable  to  see  us  sitting  here,"  she 
said.  "  Do  you  not  see  that  I  am  old  and  gray- 
haired?  Do  you  not  know  that  I  have  a  husband 
and  children?  And  even  if  it  were  not  laugh- 
able, it  is  all  to  no  purpose.  We  do  not  believe 
in  one  another.  We  never  have  done  so.  And 

other  people  do  not  believe  in  us Nor  do 

we  deserve  that  anyone  should  believe  in  us  — 
certainly  not  in  me,  for  I  am  a  wicked  creature  — 
and  a  pity  it  is  for  my  husband  and  my  children !  " 

But  his  thoughts  could  not  be  turned. 

"  No,"  he  said  stubbornly.  "  There  are 
strength  and  sweetness  in  your  eyes  and  in  your 
speech,  even  when  you  stand  there  saying  those 
ugly  little  words.  You  may  indeed  be  old  and 
gray  as  you  say,  yet  still  you  are  Sanpriel.  I  no 
longer  love  you  as  I  once  did.  My  feeling  for 
you  is  quite  different  —  its  source  is  far  deeper 
—  blood  has  been  transformed  into  a  soul.  It  is 
thus  I  love  you.  ...  I  did  not  want  it  this  way, 
but  I  could  not  help  myself.  Do  you  not  believe 
me?" 

"  Oh,  yes !     I  certainly  ought  to  be  very  glad." 

For  if  he  wanted  to  jest,  why  not? 

He  came  nearer.     His  voice  grew  mild. 

"  Sanpriel,  do  you  know  that  one  minute  may 
be  worth  a  whole  life-time?  You  are  gazing  so 
intently  —  what  is  it  that  you  see?  " 


196  SANPRIEL 

She  did  not  answer,  but  stood  there  with  white 
face  and  brows  drawn  as  if  in  pain. 

Suddenly  the  blood  surged  up,  coloring  her 
cheeks,  her  face,  her  neck. 

She  did  not  herself  know  that  she  had  started  on 
in  front  of  him. 

She  began  to  speak,  but  her  voice  shook  so  that 
she  could  not  do  so  for  a  moment.  Then  it  came 
with  great  firmness. 

"God  knows  I  cannot  go  on  with  this!  Nor 
have  I  any  right  to  do  so !  I  must  go  home  to 
my  family !  " 

"  To  all  that  which  is  not  yours?  " 

"  To  all  that  which  shall  be  mine.  But  first 
...  all  this  time  .  .  .  the  reason  I  have  come 
up  here  .  .  .  it  was  perhaps  —  because  there  was 
something  I  wanted  to  say  to  you.  ...  I  wanted 
to  tell  you  that  the  reason  I  left  you  that  time  was 
because  I  did  not  want  to  be  loved  in  that  way 
by  the  man  whom  I  loved.  ...  I  did  not  want 
to  wait  and  see  it  cast  aside  .  .  .  see  it  wither  and 
fade  away,  that  which  I  felt  was  eternal.  That 
you  could  forget  me,  if  only  for  one  little  hour, 
I  could  not  endure.  .  .  . 

"  Ah,  it  was  you  yourself  who  were  the  cause 
of  my  going.  It  was  your  fault  that  I  went  where 
I  should  not!  For  I  have  wandered  along  dark 

ways It  was  you  whom  I  loved !  You  who 

shattered  all  my  ideals !  So  I  have  come  to  think 


SANPRIEL  197 

at  last  that  perhaps  it  was  best  as  it  was  —  best 
for  you.  And  now  do  not  grudge  me  the  com- 
forting thought  that  it  has  been  good  for  me  to 
suffer  as  I  have.  You  must  not  think  that  I  am 
done  with  all  this  that  I  have  suffered,  all  this  that 
I  have  sinned.  I  am  living  it  over  again,  suffer- 
ing it  continually,  again  and  again." 

She  stood  wringing  her  hands.  Her  voice 
sounded  like  that  of  a  child  in  trouble. 

"  There  is  more  that  I  ought  to  tell  you,"  she 
murmured  — "  but  I  cannot.  If  I  could  only  hide 
myself  from  it,  in  the  darkness  of  eternity!  " 

He  had  sat  down  and  then  risen  again.  He 
could  not  stand  still,  but  passed  on  in  front  of 
her,  then  came  back.  A  burning  impatience  took 
possession  of  him.  Anger  flashed  in  his  eyes. 

"  You  may  keep  your  comforting  thought.  No, 
I  do  not  grudge  you  that.  How  much  you  women 
might  spare  us  if  you  would  only  take  up  the  work 
that  nature  has  given  you  to  do  —  there  where 
you  are  all  powerful,  there  where  we  are  lil*e  chil- 
dren ! This  secret  woman's  pride,  I  do  not 

understand  it!  Just  when  she  might  do  some- 
thing, lift  us  to  a  higher  plain  and  clarify  our 
vision,  then  she  folds  her  garments  about  her  and 
withdraws." 

He  stood  in  front  of  her,  speaking  vehemently, 
brokenly. 

"  And  how  did  you  love  me  ?     Why  did  you 


i98  SANPRIEL 

never  try  to  know  the  man  whom  you  loved  ?  You 
always  kept  at  a  distance  even  when  you  were  near. 
You  were  never  my  friend." 

He  continued  bitterly: 

"  And  how  is  it  that  women  in  general  love  us? 
What  kind  of  love  is  it  that  they  have  for  us? 
.  .  .  The  love  which  takes  great  responsibility 
—  that  they  know  nothing  about. 

"  You  were  never  my  friend.  You  failed  just 
when  I  was  in  greatest  need.  It  was  my  mother 
who  came  to  my  rescue." 

He  stopped,  out  of  breath. 

Then  he  stepped  forward  again,  close  to  her. 

"  You  should  not  have  done  that,"  he  added 
quietly  and  in  a  milder  tone.  "  You  left  me  just 
when  I  needed  you  most.  I  was  bad,  weak  — 
but  there  was  something  better  in  my  nature." 

She  looked  into  his  eyes. 
'  Then  you  must  forgive  me,"  she  said  slowly, 
"  for  having  done  you  such  a  great  wrong.  You 
are  right.  The  way  in  which  I  thought  of  you  — 
perhaps  it  was  only  another  way  of  thinking  of 
myself.  I  remember  now  I  was  jealous  of  your 
mother.  I  always  thought  that  she  stood  between 
us." 

He  looked  up  sharply. 

'  That  she  never  did.  She  never  had  any  de- 
sire to  do  so.  But  I  have  never  allowed  any 
woman  to  come  between  me  and  my  mother." 


SANPRIEL  199 

"  Yes,  now  you  can  see.  I  ought  indeed  to  have 
kissed  the  dust  under  her  feet  —  but  I  wanted 
that  you  should  think  only  of  me.  ...  I  cer- 
tainly thought  of  no  one  but  myself.  Even  at 
that  time  I  was  a  wicked  creature." 

"  Forgive  me !  I  must  have  hurt  you  very 
greatly  that  you  should  speak  in  such  a  way  about 
yourself." 

"  It  might  be  well  for  us  to  meet  once  more 
.  .  .  and  talk  matters  over.  But  it  is  not  worth 
while  that  we  should  come  here  again.  ...  I 
mean,  I  would  prefer  that  I  should  never  see  you 
again.  God  knows  how  I  wish  it  I  " 

"  Give  me  a  ray  of  hope  —  and  do  not  take  it 
from  me  again.  If  you  could  —  if  we  could  — 
would  you  come  back  to  me  again?  " 

"  Forgive  me !  I  could  never,  never  again  be- 
lieve in  you !  I  have  become  such  a  poor  sort  of 
creature  that  I  can  believe  in  nothing." 

He  sat  down,  deathly  pale,  as  if  struck  by  a 
blow. 

She  stared  at  him.  Was  it  so  bad  what  she 
had  said? 

"  I  am  sorry.  It  is  not  my  fault  —  but  I  could 
not  do  it.  I  really  cannot  help  it." 

She  wanted  to  comfort  him. 

"  It  does  not  matter.  It  is  of  no  consequence. 
It  is  merely  .  .  .  this  has  indeed  been  merely  a 
little  diversion  for  you  as  well  as  for  me " 


200  SANPRIEL 

He  looked  up  at  her  silently,  as  if  in  supplica- 
tion. He  rose,  went  over  and  bent  his  knee  be- 
fore her. 

"  Forgive  me  —  for  the  great  wrong  which  I 
now  see  that  I  have  done  you.  But  in  spite  of 
it  all  you  are  still  Sanpriel." 

She  turned  quickly  and  hurried  on.  She  stopped 
and  faced  about  with  a  hasty,  repellent  motion, 
and  her  voice  sounded  hard  and  imperious. 

She  wished  to  go  on  alone. 

Then  she  passed  on  hurriedly,  uncertainly,  as 
though  she  might  fall  at  any  moment. 

When  she  reached  the  garden  all  was  still. 
Every  light  was  out. 

She  did  not  go  up  to  her  room.  She  went  into 
the  big  parlor.  They  had  forgotten  to  lock  the 
door. 

Almost  unconsciously  she  went  over  to  the  piano 
and  stood  there.  Why  was  it  that  she  suddenly 
had  a  desire  to  sing?  She,  who  had  not  sung 
since  Birger  was  born. 

She  remained  standing,  gazing  at  the  piano. 
She  felt  as  though  she  were  in  the  midst  of  a  great 
illumination,  as  though  she  were  surrounded  by 
some  mysterious  presence.  Was  it  the  Golden 
Dream  —  the  dream  of  her  youth? 

For  the  moment  a  burning  joy  arose  within  her 


SANPRIEL  201 

.  .  .  something  which  resembled  happiness  as  she 
once  had  thought  it  to  be. 

So  he  still  thought  of  her  .  .  .  had  loved 

her  —  loved  her  now,  now 

With  a  quick  movement  she  opened  the  piano. 
She  would  sing  his  little  song,  the  one  she  had 
sung  the  first  time  they  were  together,  and  so 
many  times  afterward.  She  wondered  if  she 
could  remember  it.  As  no  one  slept  in  that  part 
of  the  house  she  would  not  be  heard. 

She  struck  a  few  chords  and  hummed  softly. 
She  did  not  know  whether  she  could  sing  at  all 
or  not. 

Then  she  smiled. 

For  the  voice  which  for  so  many  years  had  been 
hidden  away  and  forgotten,  was  indeed  still  there 
—  changed,  she  herself  could  tell  that;  but  it  was 
there,  although  it  had  lost  its  fullness.  Faint  and 
timid,  in  trembling  notes  it  came,  and  filled  the 
air  with  soft,  sweet  melody. 

It  was  a  light  alto,  one  of  those  rare  voices 
that  can  never  grow  sharp  or  harsh.  With 
dreamy  grace  the  tones  followed  one  another,  all 
in  gentle  harmony. 

It  was  a  voice  akin  to  the  soughing  of  the  for- 
est, to  the  soft  melancholy  of  the  night 

It  was  long  past  midnight.  The  dawn  had  be- 
gun to  break. 


ao2  SANPRIEL 

She  rose  and  closed  the  piano.  She  felt  a  sol- 
emn, quiet  joy.  She  would  hurry  up  to  her  room. 
But  when  she  reached  the  door  she  stood  there 
as  if  paralyzed. 

On  one  of  the  chairs  outside,  with  his  head  in 
a  listening  attitude  toward  the  door  —  he  sat,  all 
shrunk  together,  weeping. 

Then  fear  took  hold  of  her,  mingled  with  a  wild 
feeling  of  joy.  Everything  swam  before  her. 
She  supported  herself  against  the  door. 

No,  she  must  not  again  be  tempted  by  anything 
momentary  —  must  not  forget  herself  again. 
She  would  thank  God  for  these  moments  of  con- 
solation, and  then  quietly  go  her  way,  knowing 
there  was  nothing  more. 

But  involuntarily  she  found  herself  standing 
beside  him.  He  stretched  out  his  hand  to  her. 
She  took  it  and  pressed  it  to  her  brow. 

Suddenly  she  clung  to  him  —  as  if  seeking 
refuge  and  help. 

It  was  but  a  second.  Then  she  realized  what 
she  had  done. 

It  was  from  him  she  must  save  herself. 

And  she  fled. 

She  stood  at  her  window,  listening  as  in  a  dream 
to  the  hollow  roar,  still  half  suppressed,  of  an  ap- 
proaching storm. 


SANPRIEL  203 

Then  it  was  upon  her.  A  dark  storm-wind 
which  bent  the  forest.  It  did  her  good  to  see  it. 

She  sank  down  in  front  of  the  window  with  her 
head  on  the  sill.  His  face  rose  before  her  — 
dark,  almost  unrecognizable,  with  eyes  which 
seemed  to  stare  at  her  from  the  blackest  gloom. 
.  .  .  Had  she  heard  a  cry  from  the  depths  of  a 
secret  grief? 

She  half  rose. 

That  this  force  within  her  soul,  this  power 
which  she  felt  streaming  through  her,  as  the  part 
of  herself  which  could  not  die  —  that  this  should 
be  hemmed  in,  cut  off  ...  this  dream  in  her 
heart,  which  Arvid  and  the  children  had  never 
cared  for  .  .  .  that  it  should  wither,  die !  It  was 
so  terribly  incomprehensible  ...  so  utterly  with- 
out meaning.  .  .  . 

With  difficulty  she  dragged  herself  to  her  bed. 
It  was  strange  that  she  had  not  lain  down  imme- 
diately. She  surely  must  have  known  how  deadly 
tired  she  was.  She  hid  her  face  in  the  pillows. 

Then  she  rose  again.  There  was  no  rest.  She 
sat  there  all  bent  over,  motionless. 

Then  she  smiled,  full  of  scorn  for  herself. 

"  No,"  she  whispered.  "  That  which  is  past 
cannot  come  again." 

It  seemed  to  her  that  she  could  neither  think 
nor  feel  any  longer.  She  knew  only,  that  she 


204  SANPRIEL 

must  go  home  to  all  those  strange  people  —  to  Ar- 
vid  and  the  children.  She  felt  the  waves  closing 
over  her,  dark  and  noiseless. 

One  by  one  tears  filled  her  eyes.  They  were 
cold  and  bitter  tears,  the  kind  which  never  com- 
fort, but  drop  slowly,  one  by  one. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THERE  was  an  unusual  disturbance  down  on 
the  lawn,  quite  early  that  morning. 

Thora  Thammers  went  over  to  the  window, 
leaned  out  to  look,  then  forced  herself  to  remain 
there  listening.  For  now  she  was  going  to  begin 
to  interest  herself  in  other  people,  it  was  indeed 
her  duty. 

Almost  everyone  was  down  there,  even  Fru 
Iversen  and  the  little  Danish  countess,  who  sel- 
dom showed  themselves  before  luncheon. 

A  man  had  been  found  lying  dead  drunk  right 
under  the  countess'  window. 

She  had  taken  it  as  quite  personal  that  he  should 
have  lain  down  just  there,  and  the  German  Gen- 
eral and  the  Adjunct  were  so  excited  over  it  that 
Fru  Iversen  felt  that  she  ought  to  come  to  the 
man's  assistance. 

"  Poor  fellow,  he  was  certainly  not  hard  to 
please.  He  had  not  even  stirred." 

The  Dean's  wife  and  the  -journalist,  Betsey 
Schaum,  came  over.  They  thought  it  was  not  the 
right  way  to  do  at  all. 

Over  by  the  storehouse  stood  Fru  Liss  and  Don 
Miguel.  They  were  more  interested  in  the  star- 

205 


206  SANPRIEL 

ling,  which  was  shrieking  and  calling  for  help 
against  the  crow.  They  threw  stones,  but  the 
starling  did  not  move.  He  knew  that  they  were 
aimed  at  the  crow. 

Then  Fru  von  Asten  came  out  and  beckoned 
to  Thora.  She  and  the  engineer  were  going  for 
a  tramp  up  the  mountain  to  a  cave,  and  she  wanted 
her  to  go  with  them. 

Fru  Thammers  was  such  an  excellent  person, 
very  comfortable  to  have  along,  for  she  never 
noticed  anything. 

Fru  von  Asten  had  of  late  begun  to  show  her  a 
sort  of  distant,  undefined  tenderness  and  had  in- 
vited her  to  afternoon  tea,  together  with  the  huge 
young  engineer  with  the  sleepy  blue  eyes  and  the 
little  light  mustache. 

Sometimes  she  had  joined  them,  although  she 
thought  it  foolish  that  she  found  it  so  difficult  to 
say  no. 

But  to-day  she  could. 

Fru  von  Asten  said  good-by  with  a  smile  in 
which  there  was  no  trace  of  tenderness,  and  went 
off  with  her  Mars. 

Thora  Thammers  followed  them  with  her  eyes, 
exerting  herself  to  think  of  them. 

"  She  would  like  to  scratch  me.  I  am  now  rele- 
gated to  the  position  of  fallen  angel." 

She  tried  to  keep  her  thoughts  on  Fru  von  As- 
ten and  her  Mars,  but  it  was  difficult.  Every- 


SANPRIEL  207 

thing  seemed  to  slip  away,  and  by  the  time  they 
were  out  of  sight  she  had  forgotten  that  they  ex- 
isted. 

Then  she  tried  to  put  her  mind  on  the  others 
around.  She  seemed  to  feel  more  certain  of 
them. 

Student  Adelsson  came  along  with  his  fresh 
young  face  fairly  beaming.  Shading  his  eyes 
from  the  sun  as  he  looked  up,  he  called  to  her: 

"  Better  come  down  and  go  fishing  with  us ! 
The  pike  are  lying  on  the  surface  of  the  water 
dreaming  of  the  blue  sky  .  .  .  and  the  perch  are 
running  straight  into  the  rocks  along  the  shore, 
and  wondering  what  kind  of  fish  they  can  be,  the 
great  yellow  meadow  flowers.  .  .  .  Come  and  go 
along!" 

She  shook  her  head. 

Then  Fru  Gyllenskjold  came  out.  She  gazed 
at  all  the  people  in  mild  surprise  while  she  pulled 
on  her  long  gloves. 

She  nodded  to  Thora  Thammers. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  take  a  morning  walk  across 
the  meadow  for  the  sake  of  old  times?  If  it 
would  not  bore  you." 

From  the  opposite  direction  came  Samuel  Stern. 
Thora  Thammers  had  seen  him  coming  in  the  dis- 
tance. 

"  How  fortunate  for  him  that  nothing  affects 
him,"  she  thought. 


208  SANPRIEL 

"No,  are  you  there?"  interrupted  Fru  Gyl- 
lenskjold  as  she  touched  him  on  the  shoulder  with 
her  elegant  little  stick.  "  Indeed,  you  ought  to 
be  punished.  I  haven't  seen  you  for  ten  days. 
...  I  just  want  to  tell  you  ...  I  am  beginning 
to  believe  that  ennui  is  not  fatal." 

He  lifted  his  hat,  smiling. 

"Your  Highness!  Why  are  you  bored? 
Have  you  not  this  long  time  been  convinced  of  the 
mediocrity  of  your  fellow  beings?  You  are  not 
making  allowance  for  that.  I  am  sorry  for  you." 

"  Sir?  It  is  I  who  am  sorry  for  you.  .  .  .  But 
now  that  is  over.  For  the  one  who  knows  that 
sorrow  comes  from  setting  one's  heart  on  some- 
thing —  he  does  as  the  rhinoceros  does,  withdraws 
into  solitude.  It  is  not  I,  but  an  Indian  sage,  who 
says  that.  Are  you  not  going  with  me,  little  Fru 
Thora?  Then  I'll  have  to  go  alone." 

"  We  will  follow  at  a  respectful  distance,  Wolf 
and  I." 

Thora  Thammers  withdrew  into  her  room. 
She  could  endure  it  no  longer. 

Shortly  afterward  she  took  her  hat  and  went 
out. 

She  started  down  the  path  that  led  toward  Casa 
Santa.  As  she  walked  it  became  clear  in  her  mind 
that  it  was  there  she  wished  to  go. 

The  little  house  lay  on  a  slope  under  the  hill 
with  a  garden  toward  the  lake.  She  could  see 


SANPRIEL  209 

Madame  Harder  moving  about,  pruning  the  shrubs 
and  tying  up  the  vines.  Beyond  her  were  two 
boys  weeding.  When  Adele  Harder  saw  her  she 
came  to  meet  her.  Thora  Thammers  felt  that  she 
had  not  been  mistaken.  There  was  something 
soothing  merely  in  the  touch  of  her  hand  —  a  ten- 
derness, as  it  were,  which  seemed  to  embrace  her. 

She  stood  looking  around. 

"  I  had  no  idea  there  was  so  much  here,"  she 
said. 

Adele  Harder  laughed.  And  when  she  laughed 
her  face  was  beautiful.  There  was  something 
about  her  smile  which  conquered  everything. 

Thora  Thammers  felt  a  sense  of  security,  al- 
though she  did  not  for  an  instant  know  what  it  was 
she  wanted  there. 

"  I  had  no  idea  there  was  so  much  here,"  she 
said  again. 

"  Is  it  not  so?  Here  you  will  find  your  friends 
from  Flyen,  and  some  others  as  well.  It  is  my 
delight,  let  me  say  my  fad,  to  discover  Nature's 
boundaries  and  then  to  persuade  her  to  shift  them 
a  little.  I  experiment  both  on  plants  —  and  hu- 
man beings.  .  .  .  See  here !  And  look  there !  " 
She  pointed  toward  the  two  boys.  "  I  weed  out, 
I  sow  .  .  .  and  it  gives  me  great  pleasure.  .  .  . 
Iver  and  Hans,  you  may  go  to  the  dairy.  Now 
we'll  sit  down  here  under  this  hop  vine  where  we 
can  look  out  over  the  lake.  You  are  tired." 


210  SANPRIEL 

"  Yes."  She  rested  her  head  on  the  green 
trellis. 

"  How  comfortable  one  feels  with  you,"  she 
murmured.  And  she  sat  gazing  at  her  in  silence. 
Again  she  was  considering  what  it  was  she  wanted 
here. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  softly,  as  if  in  answer  to  her 
own  thoughts. 

She  straightened  up. 

"  I  have  come,  because  I  want  you  to  talk  to  me 
a  little.  Some  one  told  me  once  that  your  eyes 
could  influence  even  a  tiger.  Look  at  me.  Let 
me  feel  their  influence." 

Adele  Harder  took  her  hand  in  both  her  own. 

"  You  should  be  a  little  more  careful  of  your- 
self. You  go  about  so  much  alone.  It  is  not 
good  for  you." 

She  did  not  answer,  merely  looked  up  at  her, 
shading  her  eyes  from  the  light  with  her  hand. 
Her  eyelids  were  swollen,  and  the  balls  felt  dry 
and  burning. 

Adele  Harder  rose. 
'  You  must  have  a  little  wine  first." 

She  went  in  and  came  back  again  immediately. 
Thora  followed  her  with  her  eyes  as  she  went  and 
came,  then  mechanically  drank  and  ate  what  was 
brought  her. 

Adele  Harder  sat  down  opposite  her  and  began 
to  sew  industriously. 


SANPRIEL  211 

'  This  is  a  blouse  for  Iver.  It  is  his  birthday 
to-morrow.  Now  you  can  watch  the  lake.  No- 
tice how  peacefully  it  lies  there  after  last  night's 
storm." 

There  was  a  pause. 

"Are  you  comfortable?" 

"  Yes."  Thora  Thammers  looked  up  and  tried 
to  smile.  "  There  was  some  one  up  there  who 
called  you  a  queen  without  a  country;  but  Mer- 
chant Stern  thought  that  you  ruled  not  only  a 
country,  but  a  kingdom  —  an  invisible  one  —  of 
the  best  forces  of  life.  I  think  it  must  be  true, 
for  it  is  so  comfortable  here." 

She  closed  her  eyes  and  grew  deathly  pale  for 
an  instant.  A  thrill  of  joy  had  passed  through 
her  as  she  spoke  of  him,  a  tremor  at  the  mere  men- 
tion of  his  name. 

Madame  Harder  smiled. 

"Omar  Pasha  is  so  generous  —  but  I  am  to 
talk  to  you,"  she  continued  gayly.  "  What  shall 
I  tell  you?" 

"  Something  about  yourself." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence.  She  looked 
up  from  her  work. 

"  I  was  young  once,"  she  said  slowly.  '  What 
was  my  happiness  at  that  time  was  shattered.  I 
saved  myself  by  taking  up  something  else.  It  is 
best  to  turn  from  small  things  to  great." 

Thora  glanced  at  the  pure,  peaceful  expression, 


212  SANPRIEL 

and  at  that  moment  bitterly  realized  the  distance 
between  them. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  such  things  sound  very  well 
if  one  is  good  enough.  There  was  some  one  once 
who  called  Christianity  a  divine  invention.  It  is 
that,  for  it  is  merciful.  It  closes  the  doors  on  the 
depths  of  suffering.  Man  has  nothing  to  do  with 
that.  There  is  a  loving  Father  who  arranges 
everything  for  the  best.  So  the  little  happiness 
becomes  a  big  one." 

Madame  Harder  looked  at  her  for  a  moment. 
Then  she  said: 

"  My  religion  is  not  to  sit  and  wait  until  every- 
thing shall  be  arranged  by  a  Supreme  Being.  It 
is  to  fight  the  evil  and  to  do  good  so  long  as  I  can. 
And  my  happiness !  It  is  not  my  own  little  per- 
sonal happiness  that  grows  into  the  larger,  it  is 
something  entirely  different  —  it  is  the  faculty  of 
being  able  to  think  of  others." 

She  paused.  Then  she  added,  with  a  little 
smile : 

'  The  entrance  to  the  depths  of  suffering  is 
never  closed.  There  is  always  an  avenue  of  ap- 
proach for  one  who  wishes  to  go  down.  Most 
people  dare  not,  and  cannot.  Some  do  so  and 
never  return." 

She  glanced  inquiringly  at  her. 

"  Sorrow  acts  so  differently  on  different  people. 
Some  are  strengthened  by  it,  others  crushed.  But 


SANPRIEL  213 

it  is  my  religion  that  one  must  not  allow  oneself 
to  be  crushed. 

"  I  also  know  something  about  suffering,"  she 
added  softly.  "  I  have  tried  not  to  be  weak,  but 
to  rise  above  it  and  free  myself  from  it.  ...  We 
must  learn  to  make  use  of  it,  to  transform  it  into 
a  power  for  work." 

Thora  Thammers  straightened  up  involuntarily. 
The  blood  rose  to  her  cheeks,  and  she  spoke  im- 
petuously. 

"  But  that  little  personal  happiness  which  you 
consider  so  unimportant,  is  nevertheless  a  force, 
the  best  incentive  to  work.  One  needs  to  be 
happy  in  order  to  be  able  to  work.  I  mean,  the 
fact  that  one  is  happy  makes  one  strong,  and  the 
fact  that  one  has  lost  his  happiness,  or  has  never 
possessed  it,  that  fact  takes  his  power  from  him." 

She  could  not  get  away  from  her  own  ideas. 
Her  heart  shrank  back  and  passionately  urged  her 
to  set  up  this  earthly  joy  against  the  stern  require- 
ments of  the  heavenly  law.  She  must  defend  her- 
self against  the  impossible. 

"  I  cannot  .  .  .  and  I  do  not  want  to,"  she 
again  interrupted.  "  One  thing  is  certain :  in  or- 
der to  be  able  to  accomplish  anything  one  needs 
to  belong  to  earth.  This  little  earthly  happi- 
ness ...  if  one  has  that,  then  one  can  grow  still 
more,  can  do  much  more " 

"  Yes,  but  you  are  thinking  only  of  one  kind 


214  SANPRIEL 

of  happiness,  and  you  believe  there  is  nothing  else 
in  the  world.  It  is  just  that  fact  that  makes  peo- 
ple unhappy." 

She  took  her  hand  in  both  her  own  and  drew 
her  down  by  her  side. 

Thora  avoided  her  gaze. 

"  One  must  look  about  and  busy  oneself  with 
something,"  she  continued  after  a  pause. 

"  Do  you  know  what  my  dream  is?  It  is  to 
be  able  to  accomplish  something,  be  it  never  so 
little,  in  the  work  of  advancing  mankind  .  .  . 
and  to  do  it  in  such  a  way  that  each  step  forward 
may  take  less  time,  may  cost  less  blood  and  an- 
guish. You  are  right;  one  needs  to  have  faith  in 
order  to  join  in  such  work  —  that  is  the  one  in- 
vincible weapon  that  we  have.  With  that  we 
shall  some  day  overcome  the  miseries  of  this 
world.  .  .  . 

"  Come,  join  us!  Remember,  it  is  through 
women  that  the  redemption  of  the  earth  shall 
come.  Let  us  work  while  it  is  day.  Let  us  not 
grow  weary  in  well-doing.  For,  all  in  good  time, 
we  shall  reap  the  harvest,  provided  we  do  not 
grow  weary." 

'  Yes,  you  have  the  courage  to  take  up  the  work; 
but  I,  the  earth-bound,  cannot.  I  think  those 
are  crushing  words,  torturing  to  one's  senses, 
cruel  to  mankind  —  we  shall  reap  the  harvest, 
provided  we  do  not  grow  weary!  What  irony  in 


SANPRIEL  215 

the  expression!  It  is  like  scornful  laughter  di- 
rected at  us,  poor  worms  in  the  dust.  For  we  are 
always  weary,  always.  We  shall  never  reap  the 
harvest!  " 

"  Those  are  the  words  of  life,  wonderful  words ! 
They  will  some  day  gather  all  our  forces  into  one 
impetuous  will,  and  kindle  a  fire  from  soul  to  soul. 
Then  it  will  no  longer  move  so  slowly,  this  work 
of  establishing  peace  on  earth." 

Thora  stared  at  her.  The  expression  of  her 
face  was  inspiring,  and  in  her  voice  was  the  note 
of  a  living  faith. 

She  turned  away,  blushing  for  herself. 

Again  she  rose  with  a  hasty  movement. 

"  How  fortunate  you  are  —  and  so  full  of  cour- 
age !  While  I  —  I  am  afraid  of  life.  Teach 
me,  lift  me  up,  if  you  can.  I  call  myself  a  Chris- 
tian, but  I  am  not.  Everything  seems  to  me  so 
unspeakably  empty.  I  see  no  God,  either  in  the 
heavens,  or  on  earth.  .  .  .  But  you  see  him. 
Christians  move  about  the  earth  on  wings  and  at- 
tain to  all  things  heavenly.  I  am  bound,  tied 
fast.  Loose  me,  take  me  with  you." 

She  sank  down  on  the  bench  and  broke  into  a 
flood  of  tears.  She  struggled  to  control  herself. 

"  You  must  excuse  me,  but  I  am  so  tired." 

Adele  Harder  waited  for  a  moment.  Then 
she  said  quietly: 

"  Take  for  your  abiding  help  the  all-sufficing 


2i6  SANPRIEL 

Lord's  Prayer.  Peace  goes  with  it.  And  do  you 
not  love  the  old  Psalms?  Think  what  they  have 
been  to  mankind.  Go  to  them ;  they  will  give  you 
peace.  They  bring  rest  and  quiet  to  the  weary." 

She  rose  and  placed  her  hand  on  the  bowed 
head. 

"  You  want  me  to  give  you  some  of  my  faith," 
she  said  sorrowfully.  "  You  know,  one  never 
gets  anything  free  .  .  .  What  you  would  live 
upon  —  you  must  win  for  yourself.  .  .  . 

"  Sit  still  and  calm  yourself.  You  see,  one 
must  endure  that  which  cannot  be  changed.  One 
owes  that  to  oneself,  is  it  not  true?  And  it  is 
well  to  take  refuge  where  big  things  grow.  Then 
one  comes  to  see  how  small  the  little  things 
are.  .  .  . 

"  Also  one  must  make  an  effort  to  help  others. 
I  know  of  nothing  better.  If  one  can  only  help 
to  bring  a  bit  of  the  light  of  heaven  down  into 
the  gloom  of  this  daily  life,  and  can  have  a  share 
in  scattering  love  around  here  on  earth!  Con- 
tinuous growth  is  the  necessary  condition  of  all 
progress.  One  must  teach  men  to  cease  hating 
one  another,  then  perhaps  some  day  they  may 
learn  to  love  one  another." 

Thora  Thammers  lifted  her  head  and  gazed  at 
her  dully. 

"  Ah,  but  all  that  is  so  impossible  I     For  as  one 


SANPRIEL  217 

lives,  something  is  taken  from  one  .  .  .  the  best." 

"  On  the  contrary.  As  one  lives,  something  is 
gained.  Our  childhood  and  youth  hold  germs  of 
promise.  Life  is  much  greater  when  these  de- 
velop and  the  promises  unfold." 

"  But  that  never  happens.  They  all  die  within 
one  and  everything  grows  cold.  How  I  wish  that 
I  could " 

"  One  must  not  be  satisfied  with  wishing.  You 
know  that  to  a  certain  extent  one  creates  his  own 
life.  Within  ourselves  in  the  depths  of  our  na- 
ture, it  is  there  we  find  what  we  have  use  for." 

Thora  Thammers  shook  her  head  with  a  forced 
smile. 

"  Within  me  —  there  is  nothing  left  .  .  .  for 
—  no,  I  cannot  tell  how  I  have  suffered!  " 

"  One  can  never  do  that.  There  is  always  so 
much  that  cannot  be  expressed,"  she  added  quietly. 
"  How  infinitesimally  small  is  that  which  can  be 
expressed,  compared  with  that  for  which  we  can 
find  no  words  —  that  which  includes,  not  only  our 
suffering,  but  our  deepest  joy,  our  strength  and  our 
hope  —  and  our  faith." 

She  rose,  pale  and  moved.  Memories  which 
had  slumbered  within  her  were  awakened  again. 

"  To  live  is  not  always  to  get  just  what  one  may 
once  have  desired.  It  is  rather  to  feel  that  one  has 
a  soul,  and  to  know  what  one  owes  to  it. 


2i  8  SANPRIEL 

"  And  ought  we  not  to  keep  in  mind  the  good 
things  we  possess?  There  is  our  immortal  long- 
ing which  buoys  us  up  like  wings.  Then  there  is 
the  sanctuary  of  our  own  hearts  where  we  may 
take  refuge.  For  this  let  us  rejoice.  Let  us  be 
glad  for  everything  as  we  find  it.  The  only  thing 
that  is  worthy  of  us  is  to  be  able  to  use  everything 
just  as  it  is  —  and  to  use  it  well." 

Thora  sat  silently  gazing  before  her. 

Adele  Harder  once  more  grew  calm  and  cheery. 
She  looked  over  at  Thora  with  her  mild  expres- 
sion and  began  gathering  up  her  work. 

"  Now  you  will  stay  and  take  luncheon  with  me. 
Come,  let  us  sit  over  there  where  we  can  breathe 
in  the  fragrance  of  the  forest,  and  the  wild  flowers, 
and  the  sea." 

Thora  followed  her  mechanically;  then  stopped 
and  stood  looking  at  her  as  if  not  knowing  what 
she  did. 

'  Yes,"  she  said  at  last,  slowly.  "  I  am  sorry 
for  all  the  wrong  that  I  have  done,  all  the  evil  that 
I  have  thought.  Now  I  see  it  all." 

Adele  Harder  put  her  arm  around  her  and  drew 
her  to  herself. 

"  I  also  have  made  the  mistake  of  being  un- 
kind. I  have  every  reason  to  scorn  myself.  One 
never  does  what  one  ought  to  do.  But  now  there 
must  be  at  least  one  thing  for  which  you  are  glad." 

"  There  is  indeed.     I  am  glad  because  I  came 


SANPRIEL  219 

to  you,  and  because  you  have  talked  with  me." 
She  tried  to  smile. 

"  But  there  is  so  much  for  which  you  should 
be  glad.  For  instance,  that  the  sun  returns  each 
day,  what  about  that?  " 

She  stopped,  looked  at  her  and  smiled. 

"  Is  it  so  difficult  to  believe?  The  world  is  in- 
deed full  of  miracles.  What  can  not  come  forth 
from  a  mere  handful  of  earth?  Is  not  every  lit- 
tle blossom  a  wonder?  And  then  the  magnificent 
thought,  that  one  has  work  —  and  can  share  in 
the  preparation  for  that  greater  time  which  is  yet 
to  come,  can  help  in  the  building  of  freedom's 
highway,  along  which  mankind  is  some  day  to  ad- 
vance to  higher  conditions.  Is  it  not  true  that 
this  is  a  great  privilege?  " 

Thora  Thammers  looked  at  her  and  again  tried 
to  smile. 

"  Yes!  And  so  all  things  are  finally  evened  up 
and  thus  quietly  brought  to  a  conclusion. 

"  But  now  I  must  go,  I  cannot  stay  here.  I  am 
going  home  and  must  go  and  pack  my  trunk." 

Adele  Harder  silently  embraced  her,  then  fol- 
lowed her  to  the  gate. 

"  Let  me  hear  from  you." 

Thora  Thammers  bowed,  took  her  hand,  kissed 
it,  and  pressed  it  to  her  burning  brow.  Then  she 
smiled,  passed  hastily  on,  and  disappeared  at  the 
turn  in  the  road. 


220  SANPRIEL 

Adele  Harder  stood  gazing  after  her.  There 
was  a  shadow  in  her  bright  glance. 

But  then  the  boys  came  back,  and  the  young 
girls  from  the  dairy  who  were  to  read  with  her. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THORA  THAMMERS  straightway  began 
to  pack. 

She  did  not  go  down  to  luncheon,  but  had  some- 
thing brought  up  to  her  room.  She  was  ready 
so  that  she  might  have  gone  on  the  afternoon 
train;  but  she  preferred  to  wait  and  drive  over  at 
midnight  in  time  for  the  morning  train. 

In  this  way  she  could  slip  away  entirely  unno- 
ticed. Then,  too,  she  could  go  up  on  Flyen  — 
just  once  more. 

But  it  would  not  do  to  go  before  the  usual 
time. 

She  remained  in  her  room  the  entire  day.  She 
had  locked  her  door,  and  finally,  after  adjusting 
her  toilet,  she  sat  down  to  read. 

Several  of  the  ladies  came  to  inquire  for  her. 
Student  Adelsson  wanted  to  come  up  and  show  her 
his  fish;  but  the  maid  had  been  instructed  that  she 
could  not  see  any  one. 

While  they  were  all  in  at  dinner  she  went  down 
—  and  up  on  Flyen,  where  she  had  sat  the  evening 
before. 

She  sat  down  to  wait  —  calmly,  as  if  she  were 


222  SANPRIEL 

coming  there  again  the  next  evening,  and  every 
evening  after. 

She  had  no  idea  how  time  passed.  She  did  not 
know  whether  she  had  sat  there  for  two  hours,  or 
for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  when  suddenly  she  was 
startled  by  feeling  Wolf's  cold  nose  under  her 
hand. 

She  rose.  Samuel  Stern  came  straight  toward 
her,  looking  somewhat  surprised. 

She  did  not  move. 

A  troubled  expression  came  over  his  face. 

"What  is  it?  I  did  not  expect  to  find  you 
here." 

"  Nor  am  I  here  —  except  for  the  last  time.  I 
am  going  away  —  I  start  to-night.  .  .  .  Yes,  I 
must  go  home.  ...  I  am  going  home  to  Arvid. 
But  there  was  something  I  wanted  to  tell  you 
first."  She  repeated  it  several  times  and  her  lips 
grew  white.  "  I  am  so  sorry  for  it  all.  .  .  .  You 
were  right  in  what  you  said.  I  have  always 
thought  only  of  myself." 

He  laid  his  hand  on  her  arm  and  gently  forced 
her  to  sit  down.  He  seemed  not  to  have  heard 
what  she  said,  and  not  really  to  understand  that 
now  they  were  to  separate. 

He  began  with  some  idle  questions,  entirely  ir- 
relevant. 

'  You  must  not  go."     He  sat  down  beside  her, 
anxiously  watching  her  face  in  its  stony  silence. 


SANPRIEL  223 

"  Why  are  you  so  pale,"  he  whispered  — "  so 
deathly  pale?  Is  it  the  wind  in  the  forest?  It 
sounds  so  threatening.  .  .  .  You,  who  understand 
the  speech  of  the  wind,  what  does  it  say,  when  it 
seems  so  angry?  " 

"  It  says,"  she  answered  slowly,  "  that  all  is 
over."  .  .  . 

At  an  involuntary  movement  on  his  part  she 
turned  toward  him. 

"  It  makes  no  difference  to  you  —  to-morrow, 
or  the  day  after,  you  will  have  forgotten  me 
again." 

"  I  shall  never  more  forget  you !  " 

"  To-morrow  you  will  have  forgotten  me,"  she 
said  again,  quietly,  persistently. 

"  Never  again  can  I  forget  you,  Thora,  that  I 
promise,  for  you  do  not  know  how  I  love  to  look 
at  your  face.  When  you  were  young,  I  never  felt 
for  you  then  —  nor  for  any  one  else  —  what  I  now 
feel  for  you.  Do  you  not  yet  believe  that  I  love 
you  now,  perhaps  as  you  wish  to  be  loved?  " 

She  sat  with  her  head  bowed  in  her  hands. 

Suddenly  she  raised  her  head,  and  a  cold  gleam 
came  into  her  eyes.  Her  voice,  at  first  a  mere 
whisper,  soon  rose  to  an  unnatural  pitch. 

"  There  is  something  that  I  have  not  dared  to 
think  of  ...  so  I  have  kept  it  locked  up  in  my 
inner  consciousness.  But  now  I  must  bring  it 
forth,  so  that  you  may  hear  it.  I  should  like  to 


224  SANPRIEL 

shriek  it  out  so  that  all  mankind  would  know  what 
I  am.  I  can  no  longer  endure  that  you  should 
think  better  of  me  tha,n  I  deserve.  You  must 
know  what  I  am,  so  that  you  can  despise  me  — 

"  One  thing  only  have  I  sought  —  I  wanted  to 
find  happiness  for  myself.  .  .  .  That  time  that 
you  disappointed  me  ...  I  could  have  killed 
you  then!  Afterward  I  lost  my  bearings.  I 
thought  there  surely  must  be  happiness  for  me 
somewhere  —  I  believed  it  was  with  Arvid.  .  .  . 
But  it  was  not  there.  And  I  had  no  peace.  I  was 
looking  for  something  that  would  make  life  won- 
derful. If  such  a  thing  were  to  be  found  on 
earth  I  wanted  to  possess  it —  I  have  always  been 
so  greedy,  and  have  thought  only  of  myself. 

''  There  came  a  time  when  I  wavered  in  my  duty 
to  my  home  —  to  my  husband  and  my  children. 
My  thoughts  became  centered  on  another  man.  I 
was  starving  and  consumed  with  thirst.  It  was 
like  an  intoxicating  drink.  I  dreamed  my  dream 
again.  I  thought  the  magnificence  of  earth  be- 
longed to  me.  Then  came  the  hour  of  awakening 
when  I  found  that  I  was  poorer  than  before  .  .  . 
and  I  saw  how  hideous  it  was.  In  the  cup  of  life 
which  I  had  quaffed,  there  was  bitterness  —  the 
bitterness  of  death !  " 

She  turned  her  head  toward  him. 

"  I  have  told  you  this  so  that  you  may  despise 
me  as  I  do  myself." 


SANPRIEL  225 

He  rose.     It  cost  him  an  effort  to  speak. 

'  You  have  had  time  to  forget  all  this,  it  seems 
to  me." 

His  voice  was  quiet  with  suppressed  pain. 

"  I  remember  it  all  more  distinctly  than  ever." 

'  That  is  because  you  have  forced  yourself  to 
recall  it  —  for  my  sake.  You  should  not  have 
done  so,  for  I  have  forgotten  it  again." 

She  turned  away. 

"  Thora !  We  have  done  one  another  great 
injury.  Forgive  me!  Yet  white  is  your  color. 
See,  the  white  butterflies  are  still  here,  following 
you." 

She  pressed  both  hands  to  her  breast. 

"  You  must  not  speak  this  way  to  me." 

"Thora,  what  is  the  matter?  What  is  it? 
Why  are  you  going?  " 

She  did  not  answer.  Her  eyes  stared  vacantly 
before  her. 

"  You  seem  so  cold !     Thora !  " 

She  turned  hastily  toward  him.  Her  face 
flushed. 

"  I  am  glad  of  it,  for  then  I  have  gained  some- 
thing." 

"  You  have  lost.  .  .  .  Forgive  me !  It  is  my 
fault." 

"  Oh,  it  does  not  matter,"  she  said  faintly.  "  It 
is  so  often  that  one  means  nothing  by  what  one 
says  — "  Her  voice  sounded  like  broken  crystal. 


226  SANPRIEL 

He  stepped  in  front  of  her.  His  eyes  grew 
dark  and  burning. 

"  Thora,  here  in  this  silence  with  only  the  night 
to  hear  us,  you  must  listen.  I  must  tell  you  how 
I  love  you !  .  .  .  And  you !  Give  me  a  word, 
that  I  may  have  something  to  comfort  me.  I  will 
come  this  evening  and  knock  at  your  door  just  to 
hear  your  voice." 

"  You  must  not  talk  to  me  this  way." 

"  Thora  —  is  there  nothing  in  your  heart  that 
tells  you  that  you  can  believe  me  now?  " 

She  pressed  her  hands  to  her  brow  and  closed 
her  eyes.  There  arose  within  her  a  wild  desire  to 
throw  herself  in  his  arms  and  believe  it. 

She  paused  for  a  moment.  Then  she  said 
quietly : 

"  No !  It  is  best  for  you  .  .  .  and  I  am  all 
right  now.  For  such  things,  one  never  suffers 
again  ...  I  mean,  a  second  time." 

She  smiled,  rose  and  stretched  out  her  hand. 

"  Farewell !  Amuse  yourself  as  long  as  you 
can  —  indeed,  I  mean  it,"  she  added  gently.  "  I 
did  not  mean  to  hurt  you." 

His  lips  trembled. 

"Thank  you!  When  are  you  coming  up 
again?  " 

She  looked  into  his  eyes  for  a  moment. 

"Do  you  not  understand?"  she  whispered. 
"Never  again!" 


SANPRIEL  227 

She  hurried  on  before  him,  down  the  slope  — 
and  reached  her  room  without  meeting  any  one. 

A  pang  shot  through  her  heart  as  she  saw  her 
trunks  all  packed  and  ready  to  go. 

So  she  must  —  she  must  go. 

She  sat  down  by  the  window  and  looked  out  at 
the  fading  twilight. 

The  fir  trees  over  by  the  storehouse  had  lost 
their  bluish  tinge  and  had  grown  dark  green  in 
color.  There  came  Fru  von  Asten  and  her  Mars. 
How  happy  they  looked ! 

Suddenly  the  thought  struck  her :  Never  again 
would  anyone  care  for  her,  Thora  Thammers  — 
it  was  all  over  —  never,  never  again ! 

For  the  first  time  a  sense  of  great  loneliness 
took  possession  of  her.  She  shuddered.  An  ir- 
resistible chill  passed  through  her  veins 

She  would  not  have  it.  She  rose  and  went  over 
to  the  table  to  pick  up  the  few  last  things. 

There  lay  a  telegram  and  a  letter.  She  snatched 
up  the  letter.  It  must  have  come  that  morning, 
but  she  had  not  noticed  it.  The  telegram  was 
still  older.  It  must  have  been  delayed  at  the  of- 
fice. It  was  from  Arvid's  sister,  and  said  that 
Arvid  was  very  ill.  She  must  come  home. 

She  tore  open  the  letter.  That  also  was  from 
Arvid's  sister,  written  a  day  later.  Arvid  had 
come  home  happy  and  well  after  his  sailing  trip 
with  his  friends.  The  day  after  he  had  enter- 


228  SANPRIEL 

tained  them  at  dinner.  That  night  he  had  had  a 
stroke  and  had  died  a  few  hours  after. 

She  sat  dazed  —  reading  alternately,  first  the 
letter,  then  the  telegram.  She  could  not  under- 
stand. It  was  not  possible  that  Arvid  was  dead. 

She  was  indeed  just  on  the  point  of  going  home 
to  him  to  do  penance  —  to  love  him  and  see  if  she 
could  be  of  use  to  him  for  the  time  they  had  left 
together 

And  now,  after  that  long,  empty  life,  not  a  word 
could  she  say  to  him.  They  needed  to  talk  to- 
gether. She  needed  his  forgiveness.  He  needed 
that  she  should  consider  him  a  little  bit.  Arvid 
...  he  was  after  all  like  a  child  ...  it  was  so 
easy  to  please  him.  .  .  . 

She  must  go  home  to  Arvid.  But  all  was  quiet 
with  him  jiow  —  no  fever  in  the  air,  no  laughter 
along  with  the  hustle  and  bustle 

She  was  sorry  for  Arvid,  that  he  was  dead,  he 
who  enjoyed  life  so  much.  It  would  have  been 
better  if  it  had  been  Samuel  Stern  ...  or  better 
still,  if  it  had  been  she.  Oh,  would  to  God  that 
it  were  she ! 

—  No,  she  was  not  to  be  so  fortunate.  She 
would  have  to  stay  here  and  accept  her  fate  —  for 
now  there  came  to  her  the  thought  of  all  she  had 
to  regret  .  .  .  from  all  the  days  and  years  of  the 
past  it  came,  pressing  down  upon  her.  .  .  .  And 
how  endlessly,  unceasingly  it  would  torture  her! 


SANPRIEL  229 

She  laughed  aloud.  Strange,  how  she  could  sit 
there  imagining  those  things !  Of  course  Arvid 
was  not  dead.  He  never  had  been  dead  when  she 
came  home.  On  the  contrary,  they  had  always 
been  so  comfortable  together;  and  now  this  time 
it  would  be  better  than  before 

She  sat  there  motionless,  all  shrunk  together, 
waiting,  not  merely  for  the  carriage  which  was  to 
take  her  to  the  station,  but  for  Arvid.  He  must 
surely  come  again.  In  any  case  they  must  have  a 
talk  together. 

When  the  carriage  came  there  was  no  one 
around.  A  storm  had  come  up,  for  which  she  was 
thankful.  It  was  a  relief  to  feel  the  rain  beating 
on  her  face  and  the  wind  tugging  at  her  garments. 

She  ordered  the  man  to  drive  on  down  the  hill. 

When  they  reached  the  gate  there  was  some  one 
there  who  opened  it,  then  stood  gazing  at  her  in 
deep  silence. 

She  looked  up.     It  was  Samuel  Stern. 

She  bowed  her  head  and  passed  him  silently. 

Then  he  asked  softly:  "  Are  you  going  home 
to  Arvid?" 

She  heard,  but  she  did  not  turn. 

"  Yes,  I  am  going  home  to  Arvid,"  she  an- 
swered slowly,  but  firmly. 


Ill 

Sweet  as  a  song  that  once  consoled  our  pain, 
But  never  will  be  sung  to  us  again, 

Is  thy  remembrance. 
Now  the  hour  of  rest  has  come  to  thee, 
Now  the  hour  of  rest  has  come  to  thee, 

Mother  dear,  sleep! 

Sleep,  darling,  sleep! 

It  is  best.     It  is  best. 

LONGFELLOW 


CHAPTER  XV 

SEVERAL  years  had  passed. 
Forest  Home  Hotel  had  gotten  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  a  place  where  people  liked  to  come 
again.     It  had  a  goodly  list  of  regular  visitors, 
and  the  house  was  always  full. 

To  Marit  Hennerud's  intense  satisfaction  the 
German  General  and  Baron  was  among  the  regu- 
lar guests.  And  as  he  liked  to  bring  with  him 
some  of  his  family  and  friends,  there  had  at  last 
come  to  be  quite  a  select  company  of  the  nobility. 

The  Danish  element  likewise  had  shown  a  ten- 
dency to  increase.  Instead  of  the  single  little 
Countess  Mohrenberg  there  were  now  something 
over  a  half  dozen  representatives  from  Denmark. 

Thus  five  years  had  passed  since  these  people 
had  met  here  for  the  first  time.  This  fact  they 
discovered  one  day  out  on  the  veranda,  and  they 
were  all  unanimously  agreed  that  it  was  very 
strange  how  time  could  pass  so  rapidly. 

Among  the  Norwegians  Principal  De  Roch  had 
been  one  of  the  most  loyal. 

There  were  some  who  still  wanted  to  call  him 
Adjunct,  but  that  would  not  do  now.  For  after 
occupying  the  position  of  Assistant  Principal  for 

233 


234  SANPRIEL 

three  years  he  had  now  risen  to  that  of  Principal. 
His  dignity  of  manner  had  increased  —  also  his 
concern  for  his  environment,  which  had  come  to 
be  a  sort  of  monomania  with  him.  That  he 
should  be  so  concerned  about  himself  seemed  to 
him  perfectly  natural,  since  he  knew  so  well  what 
people  ought  to  be. 

Fru  Sahm  was  also  among  those  who  had  not 
missed  a  year.  Time  had  likewise  given  her 
added  power.  With  the  greatest  ease  she  could 
now  lay  before  people  difficult  questions  that  they 
could  not  possibly  explain. 

The  Hemb  family  had  not  failed  either.  They 
were  always  among  the  first  to  arrive.  Two  years 
before  Froken  Hemb  had  met  her  husband.  The 
world  had  begun  to  look  brighter  to  her,  and  she 
no  longer  had  such  an  irritating  effect  upon  Fru 
Wanda  Arescho. 

Fru  Thamar  Gyllenskjold  was  not  there  that 
summer.  They  missed  her,  but  felt  freer. 

However,  they  missed  Merchant  Stern  more. 
He  had  been  there  every  year,  but  usually  came 
toward  the  close  of  the  summer.  That  was  be- 
cause of  the  change  in  the  hunting  season. 

The  Dean's  wife  thought  it  was  very  uncertain 
about  his  coming  this  year.  For  one  thing,  there 
was  that  unpleasant  episode  of  the  year  before  in 
connection  with  his  wife  and  the  engineer.  For 
another  thing,  he  had  just  lost  his  mother. 


SANPRIEL  235 

They  continued  to  talk  about  Merchant  Stern's 
wife  and  the  engineer,  who  had  gone  off  in  a  hurry 
to  America  and  had  married  there.  Fru  Iversen 
did  not  think  he  had  taken  it  much  to  heart.  She 
had  met  him  a  few  times  during  the  winter. 

There  were  some  who  felt  sorry  for  the  en- 
gineer and  were  afraid  that  his  gigantic  strength 
would  not  be  sufficient  to  protect  him  —  nor  even 
the  new  weapon  of  destruction  which  he  had  re- 
cently patented. 

Principal  De  Roch  had  gone  around  taking  his 
annual  census.  He  reported  that  this  year  also 
their  number  would  be  practically  complete.  The 
only  one  whom  he  considered  entirely  lost  to  them 
was  Fru  Thammers,  who  had  not  been  there  for 
the  last  three  years. 

But  Fru  Iversen  announced  that  this  year  Fru 
Thammers  was  coming,  after  all,  with  a  young 
niece.  Fru  Iversen  had  received  this  information 
first-hand.  She  had  been  in  Bergen  in  the  spring 
and  had  visited  Fru  Thammers,  who  had  been  left 
so  much  alone  since  the  Colonel's  death.  Her 
daughter  was  married  and  living  in  Germany,  and 
her  son  had  given  up  his  studies  and  had  taken  a 
position  with  a  commercial  house  in  London.  So 
she  had  taken  charge  of  her  husband's  young  niece. 
It  was  touching  to  see  how  she  cherished  the  Col- 
onel's memory.  He  had  been  very  fond  of  the 


236  SANPRIEL 

young  Dyveke,  so  now  Fru  Thammers  could  not 
do  enough  for  her. 

Fru  Iversen  continued  to  talk  of  the  young  girl, 
who  was  the  sweetest  sight  one  could  wish  to  see. 
But  the  physicians  were  anxious  about  her,  and 
wanted  her  to  come  up  here.  She  had  had  three 
brothers  and  sisters,  all  of  whom  had  been  taken 
with  consumption  between  the  ages  of  eighteen 
and  twenty,  and  had  died  within  a  short  time. 
They  thought  the  air  up  here  would  help  to  tide 
her  over  this  period. 

Some  of  the  ladies  began  to  talk  about  Madame 
Harder,  who  had  been  there  through  all  the  early 
part  of  the  summer.  At  heart  they  were  not  at 
all  sorry  that  she  had  now  gone. 


As  the  event  proved  this  time,  Fru  Iversen  was 
right. 

A  fortnight  had  passed,  when  one  morning  at 
the  breakfast  table  they  heard  that  Fru  Thammers 
had  arrived.  The  Dean's  wife,  who  was  her 
neighbor,  had  been  in  to  see  her. 

Yes,  of  course  she  had  grown  old  —  after  all 
that  trouble  —  but  there  was  something  about  her 
—  her  eyes  were  just  as  young  and  dreamy-looking 
as  ever,  and  her  complexion  was  remarkably  fresh 
and  clear.  The  Dean's  wife  thought  that  she 
might  take  a  little  credit  for  that. 


SANPRIEL  237 

But  the  seventeen-year-old  Dyveke!  The 
Dean's  wife  had  never  thought  to  see  any  one  with 
a  skin  so  transparently  white  and  rose-colored. 

The  doors  and  windows  stood  open,  and  from 
the  veranda  Fru  Thammers  could  see  them  in  the 
dining  room. 

"  Now  they  are  talking  us  over,"  she  remarked 
to  Dyveke,  who  was  inside. 

In  an  instant  Dyveke  was  by  her  side  —  deli- 
cate, slender,  supple  as  a  willow.  She  did  not 
walk.  Her  movements  were  like  those  of  a  bird. 

She  bent  down  and  kissed  Fru  Thammers. 

"  Good  morning,  dear  little  mother.  How 
amusing  that  they  should  be  talking  about  us,  and 
isn't  it  fun  that  in  such  a  short  time  we  should  be 
here!" 

"  Yes,  but  you  must  get  strong  now." 

Dyveke  laughed  out  as  she  doubled  up  her  fists. 

"  Am  I  not  strong?  Do  you  know,  little  Aunt 
Mother,  I  have  decided  that  I  am  going  to  gain 
strength  from  all  these  people  up  here.  Yes,  I 
am  going  to  enjoy  life  here  immensely." 

Fru  Thammers  laughed  at  her  expressions  — 
she  could  never  make  them  strong  enough  and 
had  begun  to  make  them  up  herself. 

"  Come,  we  must  go  down  now  to  breakfast." 

It  looked  as  though  Dyveke  were  going  to  keep 


23  8  SANPRIEL 

her  word,  for  before  two  days  had  passed  she  was 
a  favorite  with  everyone. 

Such  delicate  grace  and  such  charming  enthusi- 
asm they  never  had  seen  before.  Her  laughter 
was  so  merry  that  not  even  the  birds  of  heaven 
could  produce  such  music  —  everyone  listened  for 
it,  and  they  all  had  to  laugh  with  her. 

She  had  all  the  young  people  at  her  feet.  To 
the  older  ladies  she  was  a  little  child,  who  shocked 
them  with  her  incredible  boisterousness,  and  yet 
who  received  permission  to  do  things  that  no  one 
else  was  allowed  to  do. 

And  as  for  the  men  —  even  the  older  and  more 
serious  minded  among  them  —  when  she  appeared 
in  the  morning  with  her  pink  cheeks  and  golden 
hair,  she  seemed  to  them  like  a  young  Aurora  ris- 
ing and  waving  her  scepter  above  them. 

Principal  De  Roch  had  least  of  all  been  able  to 
protect  himself.  In  the  consternation  of  the  first 
few  days  he  had  felt  himself  justified  in  bestowing 
a  number  of  severe  glances,  although  in  the  end 
he  had  been  obliged  to  submit. 

Unmoved  by  his  dignity  she  had  eaten  philo- 
penas  and  drunk  healths  with  him,  while  all  his 
efforts  to  bring  about  a  more  suitable  state  of  af- 
fairs had  grown  perceptibly  weaker. 

Nor  did  it  help  matters  for  him  to  remonstrate 
with  her  for  being  so  earthly.  In  vain  did  he  ex- 
plain to  her  one  day,  that  her  delight  in  material 


SANPRIEL  239 

things  was  excessive,  and  that  long  ago  Thomas 
Aquinas  had  uttered  a  warning  for  those  people 
who  were  possessed  of  nine  senses  instead  of  five, 
and  who,  with  the  blood  rushing  to  their  heads 
like  fire,  went  to  excess  even  in  those  days. 

Dyveke  had  clapped  her  hands  together  in  de- 
light. 

"  Oh,  Principal  De  Roch,  you  are  really  the 
most  amusing  man  I  know,  for  that  is  just  exactly 
the  way  I  am!  How  the  blood  does  rush  to  my 
head!  Oh,  the  world,  how  I  do  enjoy  it  —  more 
than  any  one  on  earth!  " 

And  she  was  off. 

Not  a  week  had  passed  before  the  young  men 
were  all  in  love  with  her.  She  enjoyed  it.  In  her 
young,  heartless  way  she  made  fun  of  them.  She 
discovered  that  her  slightest  whim  was  a  law  to 
them,  and  she  used  her  power  with  wild  reckless- 
ness, at  times  making  them  appear  ridiculous,  all 
on  her  account.  Fru  Thammers  was  astounded  at 
first.  Then  she  grew  frightened  at  the  responsi- 
bility she  had  taken  upon  herself.  She  began  to 
remonstrate  and  forbid,  but  with  little  avail. 

Dyveke  had  her  ow,n  way  of  disarming  her. 
She  herself  could  not  explain  why  she  should  feel 
such  a  pang  at  the  heart,  merely  at  the  way  in 
which  Dyveke  looked  at  her  when  she  said: 
"  You  must  let  me  do  it,  little  Mother,  for  I  just 
must!  " 


24o  SANPRIEL 

Marit  Hennerud  was  among  those  who  came 
under  the  yoke  of  Dyveke's  tyranny.  She  was 
persuaded  to  give  her  full  authority  over  one  of 
the  boats,  and  Dyveke  began  to  carry  on  all  sorts 
of  sport  down  below. 

There  was  a  little  path  leading  up  through  a 
dense  clump  of  trees.  She  would  untie  the  boat 
and  draw  it  up  close  along  the  shore.  Then, 
starting  from  the  top  of  the  hill,  she  would  run 
down  through  the  wood,  and  with  one  bound  land 
in  the  boat  in  such  a  way  as  to  send  it  shooting  out 
over  the  water. 

At  first  only  a  few  saw  her.  Soon  others  dis- 
covered what  was  going  on,  but  it  was  strongly 
impressed  upon  them  that  the  old  folks  must  not 
know  about  it. 

However,  the  spectators  steadily  increased  in 
numbers.  They  were  completely  carried  away  by 
her  daring.  For,  as  she  came  rushing  down 
through  the  trees,  wild  and  radiant,  with  her  long 
bright  hair  streaming  behind  her,  and  with  a  little 
shriek  sprang  into  the  boat  —  one  could  think  of 
nothing  but  a  dryad  or  one  of  Diana's  nymphs. 

She  confessed  that  she  had  seen  something  sim- 
ilar in  a  circus  when  she  was  small,  and  since  then 
she  had  always  thought  how  fine  it  would  be  to 
try  it  herself. 

But  she  did  not  like  to  have  all  the  others 


SANPRIEL  241 

around.  She  enjoyed  it  most  when  she  could  steal 
away  entirely  alone  —  or  if  only  one  other  were 
there. 

That  other  one  was  the  General's  nephew,  the 
handsome  young  Tyrolese,  Baron  Crone. 

For  he  was  so  frail.  He  was  going  to  die  soon, 
and  he  sat  there  so  quietly.  He  never  said  a 
word,  but  merely  sat  there  staring  at  her  with  his 
great  black  eyes. 

But  finally  this  as  well  as  other  escapades  came 
to  Fru  Thammers'  ear.  Among  other  things,  the 
story  that  one  young  man  had  almost  lost  his  life 
for  her  sake. 

This  most  certainly  could  not  go  on.  She  must 
talk  seriously  with  her. 

Then  Dyveke  was  seized  with  such  a  violent 
outburst  of  grief  that  Fru  Thammers  grew  fright- 
ened. She  threw  herself  into  her  arms  and  whis- 
pered, half  choked  with  sobs: 

"  Little  Mother,  do  you  not  understand  that  I 
must  hurry  and  see  how  everything  is?" 

And  there  came  into  her  eyes  an  expression 
which  gave  Fru  Thammers  a  better  understanding 
—  an  expression  which  she  never  could  forget. 
There  was  a  hidden,  secret  terror  in  the  young 
mind.  In  spite  of  the  assurances  of  the  physi- 
cians, she  had  a  presentiment  that  her  summer  of 
life  would  be  short. 


242  SANPRIEL 

It  was  as  if  Death  had  passed  through  the  room 
with  a  finger  on  his  lips  and  a  smile  in  his  eye. 

Fru  Thammers  pressed  her  close.  She  could 
not  say  another  word. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

FRU  THAMMERS  had  just  returned  from 
her  usual  solitary  evening  walk  when  Dyveke 
came  rushing  in. 

'  There  is  a  man  down  there  whom  they  call 
Omar  Pasha.  He  has  just  come,  although  they 
have  been  waiting  for  him  for  a  long  time.  Why 
does  he  come  so  late,  when  the  season  is  so  nearly 
over?" 

A  change  passed  over  Fru  Thammers'  face, 
but  she  answered  quietly :  "  I  think  he  would 
probably  prefer  to  be  alone  this  year,  for  he  has 
had  a  great  loss." 

"  But  he  was  so  jolly.  He  brought  two  dogs 
with  him.  Do  you  know,  little  Mother,  I  could 
easily  fall  in  love  with  such  a  man.  Indeed  I 
could,  he  has  such  a  wonderful  face.  It  is  mag- 
nificent the  way  it  lights  up." 

Fru  Thammers  smiled. 

"  You  are  foolish,  child.  He  is  an  old  man 
and  you  are  a  little  girl." 

"  Pooh,  what  difference  does  that  make?  If 
people  are  old  that  is  nothing  against  them.  You 
are  old  also,  yet  I  am  certainly  in  love  with  you. 
But  then,  for  that  matter  you  are  not  old,  you  are 

243 


244  SANPRIEL 

my  little  young  mother  —  and  anyway,  I  don't 
like  him.  He  didn't  see  me  once,  although  we 
were  down  there  together  for  an  hour.  He  just 
seemed  to  be  looking  inside  of  me  at  something 
else  that  wasn't  me. 

"  Little  Mother,  you  mustn't  look  at  me  that 
way.  I  want  everyone  to  be  pleased  with  me.  I 
am  made  that  way,  and  everyone  must  like  me. 
They  must." 

She  laughed.     Then  tears  came  to  her  eyes. 

"  Indeed,  you  look  so  funny  and  so  scared,  lit- 
tle Mother." 

She  had  much  more  to  tell  about  the  man,  but 
more  especially  about  the  dogs.  Wolf  had  a  sav- 
age look  in  his  eye,  as  if  he  wanted  to  bite  her, 
but  she  liked  him.  She  would  tame  him. 

Fru  Thammers  continued  to  sit  there  chatter- 
ing with  Dyveke. 

She  felt  a  secret  thrill  every  time  Dyveke  men- 
tioned that  name;  but  as  she  became  conscious  of 
that  fact,  she  suddenly  rose,  placing  her  hand  ca- 
ressingly on  Dyveke's  head. 

"  It  is  late,  dear.     You  must  go  to  bed." 

She  did  not  see  Samuel  Stern  the  next  day. 
There  were  two  dining-rooms,  and  he  was  placed 
in  the  small  room. 

She  thought  she  would  certainly  meet  him  some- 
where in  the  course  of  the  day,  but  she  did  not  see 


SANPRIEL  245 

him.  Nor  did  she  see  him  on  Flyen  in  the  even- 
ing. 

Had  their  roles  changed?  Was  it  now  he  who 
was  avoiding  her?  She  smiled  sadly.  He  need 
not  take  that  trouble. 

Four  days  passed  and  she  had  not  seen  him, 
for  now  she  also  kept  out  of  the  way.  She 
thought  he  no  longer  went  up  on  Flyen  and  that 
reassured  her. 

But  one  day  as  she  stood  talking  with  Fru  Iver- 
sen  she  saw  him  coming  down  from  there.  Fru 
Iversen  wanted  to  know  if  she  did  not  think  he 
was  lonesome.  One  could  well  understand  why 
he  should  grieve  for  such  a  remarkable  mother. 
They  saw  but  little  of  him  now,  yet  they  all  en- 
joyed him  so  much.  Everything  that  he  said  was 
always  so  amusing.  He  was  really  just  the  same 
as  ever. 

And  she  did  so  love  to  see  him  come  walking 
along  like  that.  There  was  something  quite  irre- 
sistible in  his  entire  bearing.  Yes,  they  all 
thought  so. 

Fru  Thammers  agreed  with  her  perfectly. 

The  next  morning  she  saw  him  sitting  on  the  lit- 
tle porch  in  front  of  his  cottage.  Perhaps  it 
would  do  him  good  if  she  spoke  to  him.  She 
would  go  down  there. 

Her  heart  began  to  beat  violently  as  she  started 
forward,  but  she  forced  herself  to  be  calm. 


246  SANPRIEL 

He  did  not  see  her. 

When  she  stood  in  front  of  him  and  spoke,  he 
gave  a  start  and  his  face  grew  colorless.  But  it 
was  only  for  a  moment.  He  reached  out  his 
hand. 

"  Oh,  it  is  you!     So  you  are  here!  " 

His  tone  was  as  matter  of  fact  as  if  it  were  the 
most  natural  thing  in  the  world  that  she  should 
come  down  there. 

She  sat  down  embarrassed. 

"  How  are  you?  " 

At  the  same  moment  they  looked  at  one  another. 
It  was  a  mutually  inquiring  glance  —  as  if  both 
sought  to  learn  what  changes  had  been  wrought 
by  life  and  time. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  he  had  not  changed.  The 
hair  was  as  thick  and  curly  as  ever.  The  vein 
in  the  center  of  the  high  forehead  stood  out  just 
as  prominently  as  it  used  to,  while  the  mouth,  with 
its  expression  of  firmness,  was  the  same  —  the 
lines  around  it  perhaps  a  trifle  deeper. 

She  looked  away.  She  dared  not  look  in  his 
eyes. 

"  You  have  grieved  for  your  husband,"  he  said. 
'  That  is  good  of  you.  And  you  still  mourn  for 
him!" 

He  looked  down  at  her  dress. 

She  did  not  look  up.  His  tone  was  so  indif- 
ferent. 


SANPRIEL  247 

'  Yes,  I  still  mourn,"  she  answered  slowly. 

She  had  difficulty  in  keeping  the  tears  back. 

They  must  not  talk  together  in  this  way. 

"  I  wanted  to  find  you,"  she  said  softly.  "  I 
wanted  to  tell  you  how  often  I  have  thought  of 
you  since  you  lost  your  mother." 

He  glanced  up  at  her  with  a  little  laugh. 

"  Oh,  indeed!  Was  that  why  you  came?  As 
to  that,  you  ought  not  to  come  here  and  tell  me 
that  my  mother  is  dead.  Other  people  come  and 
say  to  me :  '  Yes,  you  are  indeed  fortunate  in 
having  your  mother.'  And  some  of  them  come 
and  ask:  'Is  your  mother  living?'  I  answer 
them  all :  '  Yes,  God  be  thanked  that  my  mother 
lives.'  It  is  much  better  so.  I  want  to  tell  every 
one  that  I  am  still  so  fortunate  as  to  have  my 
mother." 

She  clasped  her  hands.  The  tears  dropped 
slowly  down. 

"  I  knew  well  .  .  .  how  you  would  grieve." 

"  But  I  do  not  grieve  at  all.  I  have  been 
such  a  miserable  wretch  that  now  I  cannot  even 
grieve.  Do  you  not  see  how  I  amuse  myself  every 
day?" 

She  felt  very  uncomfortable.  It  was  so  dif- 
ferent from  what  she  had  expected.  Evidently 
he  would  not  talk  with  her  about  his  mother.  Was 
it  sacrilege  for  her  to  have  mentioned  her  name? 


248  SANPRIEL 

She  forced  herself  to  speak  in  another  tone, 
careless  and  indifferent  like  his  own. 

"  You  are  indeed  fortunate  in  being  able  to  take 
such  pleasure  in  everything.  They  are  all  so  glad 
that  you  have  come,  for  you  are  always  so  enter- 
taining." 

"  Humph !  I  have  gotten  a  reputation  for 
that.  If  once  a  man  says  anything  to  make  peo- 
ple laugh,  then  forever  after  they  think  him  amus- 
ing. .  .  .  People  generally  laugh  at  anything  that 
amuses  them  — 

"  Well,  how  does  the  company  here  suit  you 
this  year?  There  is  our  little  Principal.  Do  you 
not  think  his  new  rank  becoming  to  him?" 

She  did  not  answer.  This  light  way  of  speak- 
ing pained  her.  He  seemed  to  avoid  her  silent, 
inquiring  glance. 

"  Is  not  your  wife  here  this  year?  " 

"  My  wife?  "  He  looked  up  sharply.  "  No, 
God  had  mercy  upon  her  and  gave  her  another 
husband.  .  .  .  And  you  need  not  pity  me!  What 
one  loses  here  on  earth  one  will  find  again  on  the 
moon." 

A  tremor  passed  through  her,  but  she  controlled 
herself. 

Without  knowing  what  she  was  doing,  she 
picked  up  the  book  he  had  been  reading. 

'  You  see,  I  am  studying  Dante.     Melancholia 
will  be  punished  in  hell,  he  says.     We  run  no  risk 


SANPRIEL  249 

on  that  score,  up  here  in  our  land  of  Goshen.  We 
sit  here  in  our  bowers,  feasting  and  drinking,  and 
getting  off  foolish  witticisms  about  Egyptian  cas- 
serolls  and  such  things.  You  know  how  it  is. 
But  how  are  you  these  days,  anyway?  I  did  not 
think  you  would  come  here  again." 

"  Nor  did  I  expect  to  come,  either,"  she  said 
unsteadily,  "  but  they  thought  that  Dyveke " 

"  Oh,  I  understand.  ...  It  is  for  Dyveke's 
sake.  I  hope  you  will  be  rewarded  for  your  good- 
ness and  will  live  to  derive  some  comfort  from 
your  sacrifice." 

She  looked  at  him  astonished. 

"  I  consider  it  a  pleasure  to  do  what  she  asks." 

And  she  began  to  talk  about  Dyveke.  It  was 
a  relief  to  find  something  else  to  talk  about. 

"Have  you  seen  her?"  she  asked  finally. 
"  She  is  well  now,  entirely  so.  But  I  am  so  afraid 
that  she  will  not  escape." 

"  Yes,  I  have  noticed  her.  She  is  a  rare  blos- 
som, of  the  sort  to  which  God  gives  color  and 
beauty,  only  to  be  plucked  by  Death.  Let  her  en- 
joy herself." 

She  rose.  There  was  something  else,  entirely 
different,  that  burned  in  her  heart  to  say,  but'she 
could  not  get  it  out.  She  merely  said  something 
more  about  Dyveke,  as  if  that  were  the  only  thing 
of  importance  to  her. 


250  SANPRIEL 

"  Her  childhood  was  very  sad.  This  is  the 
first  chance  she  has  had  for  enjoyment." 

"  If  only  it  is  not  all  over  too  soon.  People 
always  get  everything  too  late.  That  has  been 
the  way  with  me.  I  have  only  recently  gotten  my 
understanding  —  and  so  it  was  with  Father 
Adam." 

She  had  never  heard  that  story. 

"  Yes,  when  he  lay  at  the  point  of  death  he  sent 
his  son  Seth  back  to  the  closed  Paradise  for  a  bit 
of  the  oil  of  divine  mercy  to  relieve  his  last  agony. 
The  angel  on  guard  would  not  let  Seth  in,  but 
he  gave  him  a  sprig  from  one  of  the  trees  in  Para- 
dise. He  was  to  plant  this  on  Adam's  grave,  and 
when  the  tree  bore  fruit  then  would  Adam  get  that 
for  which  he  had  prayed.  .  .  . 

"  But  you  have  risen.  You  are  impatient  to 
get  back  to  your  little  child.  She  is  standing  down 
there  waiting  for  you.  I  hope  the  pretty  young 
lady  will  be  gracious  and  not  get  angry  with  me 
for  having  kept  you." 

'  Would  you  like  that  I  should  bring  her  down 
here  some  time?     We  should  be  glad  to  come." 

"  Madame,  there  are  limits  to  my  desires. 
'  Die  Sterne  die  begehrt  man  nicht,  man  freut  sich 
ihrer  Pracht.'  " 

She  merely  answered  with  a  smile,  then  said 
good-by  and  left. 


SANPRIEL  251 

But  as  she  came  down  the  path  into  the  garden 
a  burning  blush  rose  to  her  cheek. 

That  little  device  about  Dyveke,  for  it  was  a 
device  —  she  had  thought  to  approach  him  with 
the  help  of  Dyveke  —  he  had  understood  .  .  . 
and  had  repelled  her. 

It  seemed  as  if  she  could  not  get  air.  Something 
seemed  to  rise  up  from  her  heart  and  choke  her. 
She  made  a  great  effort  to  control  herself,  so  as 
to  go  on  her  way  calmly. 

Suddenly  she  stopped  and  looked  around.  He 
had  said  that  Dyveke  stood  there  waiting  for  her; 
but  she  was  not  there;  she  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

At  last  she  understood.  It  was  merely  a  cold, 
polite  way  of  turning  her  away  from  himself  — 
to  Dyveke.  It  occurred  to  her  now  that  perhaps 
it  was  her  own  fault.  She  had  said  that  it  was  on 
Dyveke's  account  that  she  had  come  here,  and 
afterward  —  she  talked  only  of  Dyveke.  She 
had  plainly  bored  him  with  Dyveke. 

And  how  entirely  different  from  what  she  had 
meant.  How  she  would  have  liked  to  tell  him 
that  if  she  had  dared  she  would  have  come  for  his 
sake  only 

How  could  she  tell  him  that? 

She  laughed.  For  why  should  he  know  it?  He 
cared  nothing  about  it.  So  often  she  had  to  laugh 
at  herself.  She  thought  her  laugh  had  grown  so 
strange  and  mirthless. 


252  SANPRIEL 

She  went  up  to  her  room  and  sat  down  to  work. 
It  was  a  dress  for  Dyveke  that  she  had  not  been 
able  to  get  through  with.  She  dropped  her  sew- 
ing. Nor  could  she  ever  get  through  with  her- 
self. 

Now,  just  as  it  seemed  so  well  understood  that 
all  was  ended  and  a  thing  of  the  past  —  here  once 
more  everything  was  changed  —  worse  than  be- 
fore. There  had  come  a  new  obstacle  between 
them,  one  that  had  never  been  there  before. 

She  picked  up  her  work  and  began  to  sew  with 
feverish  haste.  She  asked  herself:  which  was  the 
most  bitter  of  all  the  bitter  experiences  she  had 
undergone?  Perhaps  this,  almost  —  she  herself 
did  not  know  why  it  seemed  to  fall  so  heavily 
upon  her. 

She  had  begun  to  weep,  but  hurriedly  dried  her 
tears.  Dyveke  always  became  so  distressed  when 
she  discovered  that  she  had  been  weeping. 
Dyveke's  love  for  her  was  indeed  a  gift  from 
Heaven.  She  ought  to  be  happy  over  it.  It 
ought  to  be  enough. 

Dyveke  came  in.  She  understood  and  snug- 
gled close  up  to  her. 

"  Dear  little  Mother!  Can  you  not  see  how 
blue  the  heavens  are?  Is  it  my  fault?" 

Fru  Thammers  smiled  and  caressingly  laid  her 
head  against  hers. 


SANPRIEL  253 

"  Little  girl,  you  are  indeed  my  comfort.  How 
cool  and  refreshing  your  hands  are !  " 

"  We'll  go  out  and  see  how  blue  the  sky  is. 
For  it  is  really  overpoweringly  blue." 

And  Dyveke  insisted.  She  was  such  a  wonder- 
ful mixture  of  tears  and  laughter.  No  one  could 
withstand  her.  They  two  must  go  for  a  walk  — 
a  long,  inconceivably  beautiful  walk. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

AUGUST  was  far  advanced. 
Some  had  already  gone,  many  others  had 
begun  to  think  about  going.     Among  the  latter 
was  Fru  Thammers. 

Everyone  congratulated  her  for  what  the  sum- 
mer had  done  for  Dyveke,  who  had  come  to  look 
so  much  stronger.  Yes,  of  course  she  was  happy. 
But  in  her  heart  she  longed  to  get  away.  Never 
had  a  summer  seemed  so  painfully  long. 

When  Dyveke  came  in  with  beaming  face  and 
asked:  "  Are  not  people  kind  here,  are  they  not 
altogether  angels?"  she  had  to  answer,  "Yes." 
For  they  all  were  kind  —  even  Samuel  Stern.  He 
was  so  kind  as  almost  to  drive  one  to  desperation. 
Toward  her  and  Dyveke  he  displayed  the  same 
kindly  interest  that  he  showed  toward  the  Dean's 
wife,  Baroness  Crone,  Fru  Iversen,  and  all  the 
others.  They  were  all  more  than  charmed  with 
him,  and  Dyveke  not  the  least. 

But  she  no  longer  saw  him  alone. 

She  had  begun  to  take  her  walks  down  across 
the  meadows  and  toward  the  Falls.  There  she 
met  the  others,  but  never  him. 

All   those   chance   circumstances  which  before 
254 


SANPRIEL  255 

had  brought  them  together  happened  no  longer. 
Now  they  seemed  to  be  only  of  the  kind  that  kept 
them  apart. 

Several  times  she  resolved  that  she  would  go 
to  him  and  talk  with  him,  alone;  but  some  chance 
circumstance  always  prevented.  Could  he  read 
it  in  her  eye,  when  she  was  thinking  of  such  a 
thing?  For  he  was  so  clever  and  knew  so  well 
how  to  defend  himself. 

So  she  gave  it  up.  They  met  every  day  in  com- 
pany with  the  others. 

Dyveke  was  happy  whenever  they  had  an  oppor- 
tunity for  a  chat  with  him.  She  had  an  idea  that 
it  was  good  for  her  little  mother,  since  she  was, 
as  it  were,  forced  to  be  lively,  and  at  times  actually 
grew  facetious. 

Dyveke  enjoyed  this,  since  the  little  mother 
seemed  the  better  for  it.  So  she  always  tried  to 
bring  them  together.  She  was  concerned  because 
her  little  mother  had  begun  again  to  be  troubled 
with  sleepless  nights. 

One  morning  she  came  rushing  in  as  was  her 
wont. 

"  You  must  have  dreamed  something  good  last 
night!  It  is  shining  in  your  eyes.  Do  you  know, 
morning  dreams  are  true!  Oh,  you  are  still  so 
beautifully  sleepy!  I  will  go — " 

And  she  was  off.  Fru  Thammers  lay  back 
again  on  her  pillow  and  slept. 


256  SANPRIEL 

She  had  been  awake  the  whole  night  and  had 
sat  by  the  window.  She  had  seen  him  coming  at 
last,  just  before  dawn.  She  had  hidden  herself, 
for  he  came  straight  past  her  window.  She  saw 
him  so  plainly.  He  had  been  weeping. 

Then  she  had  sunk  down  on  her  knees  and 
prayed  that  there  might  be  some  one  found  here 
on  earth  who  could  help  him. 

After  that  she  had  grown  calm  and  had  gone 
to  bed. 

One  evening  Dyveke  came  in  as  she  always  did 
to  say  good-night;  not  in  her  usual  way  however, 
but  very  quietly. 

Fru  Thammers  turned.  "  Dear  child,  what 
have  you  done  with  your  wings?  " 

Then  she  saw  how  white  and  trembling  she 
was.  She  grew  anxious. 

"What  is  it?" 

Dyveke  threw  her  arms  about  her  neck. 

"  I  am  just  so  terribly  happy !     I  am  engaged !  " 

Fru  Thammers  held  her  from  her. 

"  You  must  not  scare  me,"  she  said  seriously. 

"  Little  Mother,  I  will  never  do  that.  I  am 
just  telling  you  that  I  am  engaged.  Henry  Crone 
and  I  love  one  another.  Now  he  is  going  to  the 
School  of  Forestry  .  .  .  for  he  thinks  it  would 
be  a  good  thing  for  us  to  wait  a  while,  he  says. 
.  .  .  Oh,  how  I  wish  —  that  I  was  past  twenty !  " 


SANPRIEL  257 

It  came  out  so  softly.  Fru  Thammers  under- 
stood, but  took  no  notice  of  it. 

She  smoothed  her  bright  hair.  "  You  will  soon 
be  that,"  she  said  quietly.  "  Time  passes  so 
quickly." 

Fru  Thammers  did  not  sleep  that  night.  The 
first  thing  in  the  morning  she  decided  she  would 
go  and  see  Baroness  Crone.  But  that  was  un- 
necessary, for  shortly  afterward  the  Baroness  came 
to  see  her. 

Henry  Crone's  mother  was  a  small,  delicate, 
sympathetic  figure,  with  a  pale,  sweet  face. 

Fru  Thammers  had  often  wanted  to  talk  inti- 
mately with  her,  but  there  had  never  been  any 
occasion.  Now  it  had  come.  And  Fru  Crone 
told  how  she  had  often  had  the  same  desire  with 
regard  to  Fru  Thammers,  and  now  she  was  glad 
that  it  was  she  with  whom  she  had  to  talk  over 
this  difficult  matter. 

Fru  Crone  was  much  moved  and  told,  through 
her  tears,  how  Henry  had  come  to  her  the  even- 
ing before  and  told  her  all  about  it. 

At  first  she  had  not  believed  it.  Then  he  had 
grown  angry,  and  when  she  had  reminded  him 
how  foolish  it  was  for  him  to  think  of  such  a 
thing,  he  had  left  her  and  gone  up  to  his  room. 
She  had  heard  him  walking  up  and  down  the  whole 
night.  She  had  gone  up  to  him  just  before  she 


258  SANPRIEL 

came  here,  but  he  had  locked  his  door  and  would 
not  let  her  in.  She  did  not  know  whether  or  not 
Fru  Thammers  had  heard  how  weak  he  was. 
The  physicians  had  given  them  little  hope.  He 
had  been  obliged  to  give  up  his  books,  and  must 
take  everything  quietly  and  amuse  himself  —  and 
above  all  there  must  be  no  mental  excitement.  So 
his  uncle  had  decided  to  try  the  air  up  here.  But 
here  had  come  this  mental  excitement. 

Fru  Thammers  quieted  her.  She  had  seen  her 
son  early  that  morning  as  he  came  back  from  a 
walk.  But  now  she  must  tell  her  about  Dyveke, 
for  with  her  the  situation  was  just  as  bad. 

Again  tears  came  to  Fru  Crone's  eyes.  She 
had  indeed  heard  a  little  about  it  —  but  now  she 
was  so  radiantly  healthy  —  She  could  easily  un- 
derstand how  Henry  felt.  She  herself  was  in  love 
with  Dyveke. 

And  Henry  had  improved  so  much  up  here,  it 
was  almost  incredible.  She  had  written  to  his 
physician  about  it  and  it  was  difficult  for  him  to 
believe  it.  But  Henry  said  it  was  Dyveke  who 
had  driven  death  away  from  him.  She  had  ex- 
plained to  him  with  much  care  that  it  wasn't  al- 
ways necessary  to  believe  the  physician. 

Now  he  wants  to  go  to  the  School  of  Forestry 
in  the  fall.  Then  he  will  take  charge  of  an  es- 
tate, become  a  real  countryman  and  work  out-of- 
doors  the  entire  day.  Dyveke  has  told  him  he 


SANPRIEL  259 

ought  to  do  that  and  he  has  a  great  desire  to  do 
so. 

Fru  Crone  rose.  She  would  leave  the  matter 
in  Fru  Thammers'  hands,  but  she  had  to  tell  her 
just  how  it  was.  She  did  not  dare  to  go  against 
Henry's  wishes,  for  that  would  indeed  be  the 
surest  way  of  losing  him. 

Fru  Thammers  smiled  sorrowfully.  "  I  see 
no  other  way  than  to  let  them  be  happy  in  one 
another  and  to  trust  that  happiness  will  be  good 
for  them." 

She  quietly  persuaded  Fru  Crone  to  be  seated 
again,  for  she  was  still  all  of  a  tremble. 

Then  Fru  Crone  had  to  tell  how  it  was  when 
they  saw  one  another  for  the  first  time.  They 
had  stood  as  if  transfixed,  staring  at  one  another, 
like  Dante  and  Beatrice.  And  how  beautiful  they 
both  were  —  the  North  and  the  South  met  to- 
gether —  she  so  dazzlingly  fair,  and  he  —  yes, 
was  he  not  wonderful  also,  her  Henry  in  his  green 
Tyrolese  costume,  with  his  black  eyes  and  curly 
black  hair? 

Suddenly  Dyveke  stood  before  them. 

"  Are  you  two  sitting  here  talking  it  over  and 
making  it  up  that  we  are  not  to  be  engaged?  "  she 
interrupted  violently. 

"Is  it — "  She  stopped  and  stared  at  them 
with  big,  frightened  eyes. 

"  Why  can  we  not  be  engaged?     Is  it  — ,"  she 


26o  SANPRIEL 

whispered  with  voice  half-choked,  u  Is  it  because 
—  everything  will  soon  be  over  for  me?  Can 
you  not  see  how  strong  I  am?  " 

She  did  not  weep,  but  seemed  to  shrink  together 
and  grew  deathly  pale. 

Fru  Crone  hurried  over  and  took  her  in  her 
arms.  She  pulled  her  down  on  her  lap  and  whis- 
pered to  her. 

Fru  Thammers  followed  them  anxiously  with 
her  eyes. 

Suddenly  Dyveke  regained  her  buoyancy.  The 
blood  again  filled  the  veins  beneath  the  transparent 
skin.  Her  entire  face  grew  rosy  red. 

Then  she  came  rushing  over,  and  with  arms 
around  her  neck,  half  laughing,  half  sobbing,  she 
whispered:  "  I'll  be  right  back  .  .  .  now  I  must 
go  along  with  her  and  tell  Henry  he  must  open 
the  door  for  his  mother.  ...  I  have  permission 
to  do  so  ...  You  may  just  believe  that  we  will 
rattle  the  door!  Oh,  no  one  knows  how  strong 
I  ami" 

But  that  no  one  was  to  know  anything  about  the 
affair  was  perhaps  the  most  amusing  thing  of  all 
to  Dyveke. 

Later  in  the  day  the  two  mothers  had  another 
consultation.  The  severe  winter  was  not  good  for 
Dyveke,  so  it  was  decided  that  Fru  Crone  should 
take  her  down  home  with  her.  Henry  would  be 


SANPRIEL  261 

away  at  the  School  of  Forestry  and  she  would  have 
need  of  just  such  a  little  daughter.  She  lived  on 
her  estate  in  South  Tyrol,  a  beautiful  old  place, 
warm  and  full  of  sunshine  and  romance  —  just  the 
thing  for  Dyveke. 

So  it  was  decided  that  Fru  Thammers  and 
Dyveke  should  leave  the  next  day.  They  would 
go  to  Christiania  for  a  week  so  that  Dyveke  could 
be  fitted  out  for  the  journey.  Then  the  Baroness 
and  Henry  would  come  and  take  her  with  them. 

Dyveke  was  wild  with  joy  and  excitement. 
There  was  everything  to  be  packed  and  all  the 
good-bys  to  be  said.  Everyone  thought  it  strange 
that  she  should  be  so  glad  to  go  so  soon. 

Fru  Thammers  grew  nervous  and  strangely  un- 
easy. She  had  not  seen  Samuel  Stern  the  entire 
day.  He  had  gone  off  on  a  trip  and  they  did  not 
know  when  he  would  be  back. 

At  the  supper  table  she  inquired  for  him  again. 
Yes,  he  had  returned.  But  it  was  impossible  to 
get  a  word  with  him  alone.  They  were  all  around 
him  together. 

When  she  came  over  he  looked  up  with  an  air 
of  surprise  and  smiled. 

"  So  you  are  going  to  leave  us  so  soon?  Have 
you  stopped  to  think  how  stupid  it  will  be  for  the 
rest  of  us?  " 

Fru  Thammers  also  smiled. 

"  No,  for  Dyveke  and  I  are  not  at  all  what  we 


262  SANPRIEL 

ought  to  be.  It  will  just  be  a  pleasure  to  think 
that  it  is  our  absence  that  makes  it  stupid  for 
you." 

Dyveke  nodded  and  laughed.     She  stood  be- 
side Henry,  unusually  silent  and  blushing.     Radi- 
ance seemed  to  stream  from  her. 
,  Then  came  the  carriage. 

Fru  Thammers  turned  once  more  to  Samuel 
Stern  and  reached  out  her  hand. 

"  We  have  said  good-by  so  often,  it  seems  to 
me.  This  time  it  is  certainly  the  last." 

"  That  may  be.  I  am  not  coming  here  any 
more.  I  have  sold  my  hunting  lodge.  The  lit- 
tle house,  which  I  have  bought,  is  to  be  torn  down. 
No  one  shall  live  there  again.  Yes,  the  Dean's 
wife  is  right  —  it  is  a  fancy.  One  has  fancies. 
.  .  .  Farewell,  Fru  Thammers." 

He  bowed  reverently  and  remained  standing, 
hat  in  hand. 

At  last  Dyveke  also  got  into  the  carriage  and 
they  started  off. 

They  were  all  out  on  the  lawn  waving  their 
handkerchiefs.  The  young  people  gave  their  yell 
with  great  feeling. 

Dyveke  stood  upright  with  face  turned  toward 
them.  The  driver  had  to  go  slowly. 

She  nodded  and  beckoned  with  glance  and  smile, 
with  hands  and  arms.  She  blew  a  kiss  from  the 
tips  of  her  fingers,  time  and  time  again. 


SANPRIEL  263 

It  was  a  sight  to  see  her.  She  stood  there  like 
a  young  goddess  of  victory. 

All  the  men,  both  young  and  old,  broke  into  a 
cheer. 

Then  for  a  moment  she  grew  shy  and  hid  her 
face  in  her  hands.  But  when  the  carriage  turned 
again  she  blew  them  another  kiss. 

Each  one  thought  that  he  had  a  share  in  this 
demonstration. 

There  was  just  one  who  took  it  all  to  himself, 
as  he  stood  there  with  his  dark  eyes  shining. 

Fru  Iversen  was  sorry  for  the  young  baron. 
He  took  it  all  so  nicely.  Of  course  he  would  soon 
be  over  it. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THOSE  days  at  Christiania  had  been  very  full. 
Not  until  now  had  Fru  Thammers  had  time 
to  reflect  that  she  was  again  to  be  left  alone. 

It  was  evening.  She  had  returned  to  the  hotel 
after  accompanying  Dyveke  to  the  railway  station, 
where  Fru  Crone  had  received  her  like  a  mother. 

She  knew  that  she  could  rest  easy  so  far  as 
Dyveke  was  concerned,  yet  she  felt  that  now  she 
was  lost  to  her. 

Dyveke  had  wept,  but  had  rejoiced  more,  for 
now  she  was  going  out  to  see  the  world.  But 
she  had  made  her  little  mother  promise  that  when 
spring  came  she  would  come  down  and  fetch  her 
back.  And  Fru  Crone  had  said  that  it  was  the 
only  way  she  could  get  her  back,  because  there  was 
no  one  else  to  whom  she  would  trust  her. 

Dyveke  had  already  asked  if  they  couldn't  go 
to  Forest  Home  again.  Henry  would  be  with 
them  of  course 

She  sat  staring  out  into  the  heavy  gray  at- 
mosphere. 

Until  spring!  Perhaps  they  would  both  be 
dead  by  that  time.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she 

would  never  see  her  again 

264 


SANPRIEL  265 

She  looked  around.  Here  lay  a  book  which 
had  been  forgotten  .  .  .  there  a  waist  which  she 
had  just  taken  off,  and  which  she  did  not  care 
to  take  with  her  —  and  there  she  had  forgotten 
a  handkerchief. 

She  gathered  them  all  up  and  held  them  close 
in  her  arms.  There  was  something  of  Dyveke 
about  them,  a  fresh,  youthful  odor. 

Then  she  put  them  in  her  trunk  and  set  about 
straightening  things  up.  Now  indeed  she  must 
begin  to  think  what  she  should  do  with  herself. 
But  she  avoided  the  question.  There  was  so  much 
to  do  getting  things  straightened  up. 

She  seemed  to  hear  a  voice  from  the  corner 
saying:  "  Of  course  you  will  go  home  to  Bergen 
—  what  else  could  you  do?  " 

But  she  evaded  it  —  she  would  not  answer. 

She  had  to  write  a  note  to  Dyveke  which  was 
to  reach  her  at  Copenhagen,  and  one  which  was 
to  be  waiting  for  her  in  her  room  when  she  ar- 
rived at  Berlin.  She  had  to  go  down-  and  mail 
them.  Then  she  went  on  for  a  little  walk. 

She  went  as  far  as  the  park  where  she  sat  down 
on  a  bench. 

People  were  passing  by.  Some  stopped  for  an 
instant  and  stared  at  her.  Why  did  they  do  this? 

Then  it  came  over  her,  how  alone  she 

was  —  alone  on  earth! 

Yes,  of  course  she  would  find  work.     There 


266  SANPRIEL 

was  no  question  about  it.  There  was  indeed  so 
much  to  be  done.  She  would  go  to  Madame 
Harder.  She  would  help  her. 

She  looked  about.  Here  she  had  played  as  a 
child.  Close  by  was  her  childhood's  home,  but 
she  did  not  want  to  see  it.  All  was  so  unspeakably 
empty.  Those  who  had  loved  her  were  gone. 

She  rose  and  went  on. 

There  was  the  bench  where  she  had  sat  once 
with  Samuel  Stern  .  .  .  that  time  when  they  were 
happy.  She  wondered  if  it  were  the  same  bench. 

She  took  a  side  path  so  as  not  to  go  past  it. 

And  over  on  that  avenue  she  had  walked  that 
evening  .  .  .  when  she  was  no  longer  happy 
.  .  .  when  she  had  just  come  back  from  him 
.  .  .  when  everything  about  her  had  gone  to 
pieces.  .  .  . 

And  the  next  morning  early  she  had  gone  to 
Bergen  .  .  .  for  she  had  been  in  great  haste  to 
get  away.  Yes,  it  was  she  who  had  done  it  all. 
She  had  brought  her  fate  upon  herself. 

All  that  lay  between  that  evening  and  the  pres- 
ent time  —  it  bore  down  upon  her  like  an  endless 
burden. 

It  was  growing  very  cold  and  disagreeable. 
She  would  go  back  to  the  hotel.  To-morrow  she 
would  pack,  for  she  could  not  stay  here.  She  had 
already  been  here  two  weeks. 

As  she  turned  a  corner  she  was  roused  by  the 


SANPRIEL  267 

sound  of  Fru  Iversen's  voice.  She  had  met  the 
wife  of  the  wholesale-dealer  Iversen. 

'Well,  isn't  this  interesting!  Yes,  we  arc  all 
gone  now.  You  know,  Marit  Hennerud  is  still 
up  there  with  the  live  stock,  fattening  them  up  a 
little.  And  Merchant  Stern  is  there.  He  is  such 
a  horrid  hunter  —  yes,  just  think  of  those  dear 
little  animals,  and  then  there  is  an  English  family, 
Lady  Hammond,  with  her  lord  and  three  chil- 
dren, and  their  servants.  They  fish  all  together 
for  days  at  a  time  —  heavens,  it  is  even 
worse " 

Fru  Thammers  drew  down  her  veil  and  passed 
on. 

When  she  reached  the  hotel  she  found  it  was 
late. 

She  went  to  her  room.  It  was  so  oppressively 
lonesome.  She  would  hurry  and  get  to  bed.  She 
would  not  think  of  what  she  was  going  to  do.  She 
would  decide  in  the  morning 

Again  there  came  the  voice  which  said, 

of  course  she  must  go  back  to  Bergen.  Indeed 
that  was  her  home.  She  would  always  find  some- 
thing there  to  keep  herself  busy. 

She  would  not  listen,  for  she  had  said  that  she 
would  not  think  about  it.  She  felt  utterly  ex- 
hausted. It  was  a  good  thing,  for  now  she  would 
go  right  to  sleep. 

Samuel  Stern's  mother  came  into  her  mind.     Al- 


268  SANPRIEL 

though  she  had  never  seen  her,  she  had  always 
been  as  it  were,  in  the  background  of  her  life. 

How  she  wished  now  that  she  had  seen  her! 
If  she  had  gone  to  her  instead  of  flying  off  as  she 
did  —  how  different  all  might  have  been. 

She  was  just  on  the  point  of  dropping  to  sleep, 
but  her  thoughts  would  not  let  go.  She  wanted 
to  ask  her  forgiveness,  but  she  could  not  find  her. 

But  afterward  when  she  was  asleep,  Samuel's 
mother  came.  Her  face  was  beaming  and  her 
voice  gentle.  She  spoke  only  these  words:  "  It 
is  I  who  send  you." 

When  Thora  Thammers  awoke  in  the  morning 
she  knew  what  she  was  going  to  do.  An  unusual 
sense  of  peace  had  come  to  her.  She  dressed 
very  slowly.  She  felt  that  she  must  do  everything 
slowly  in  order  that  she  might  better  collect  her 
thoughts. 

She  would  remain  here  another  day.  There 
was  no  hurry.  It  would  only  become  more  cer- 
tain with  each  day  that  now  she  would  see  him. 

She  went  for  a  walk  again  in  the  park  and  went 
through  all  the  old  paths.  She  could  do  it  now. 

The  sky  was  overcast,  but  the  sun  broke  through 
occasionally.  What  a  blessed  thing  it  was  to  see 
the  sun  again!  She  began  to  look  for  the  sunny 
spots  so  as  to  feel  the  sun's  rays. 

Suddenly  she  stopped.  The  thought  struck  her : 
what  else  had  she  been  doing  her  entire  life? 


SANPRIEL  269 

She  supported  herself  against  a  tree. 

A  sudden  calm  took  possession  of  her She 

would  do  so  no  longer.  She  had  deserved  noth- 
ing .  .  .  and  her  day  of  life  was  long  past.  She 
would  be  thankful  if  there  were  still  one  ray  to  be 
found  for  her. 

—  She  decided  to  wait  a  few  days  longer  before 
leaving. 


Marit  Hennerud  thought  it  exceedingly  odd 
that  Fru  Thammers  should  come  up  to  Forest 
Home  again. 

It  was  a  bright  autumn  afternoon.  There  was 
no  one  to  be  seen  except  Sjur,  whose  face  showed 
great  delight  as  he  caught  sight  of  Fru  Thammers. 

The  English  family  had  gone  up  into  the  forest 
fishing  and  would  not  be  back  for  a  week.  Mer- 
chant Stern  was  out  hunting  and  was  not  expected 
very  soon  either.  Marit  Hennerud  didn't  know 
how  she  could  entertain  her. 

Fru  Thammers  smiled.  "  Don't  trouble  your- 
self at  all,  but  just  let  me  take  care  of  myself." 

She  was  glad  they  were  all  away.  It  was  just 
what  she  wanted. 

The  first  day  she  went  up  on  Flyen  with  Sjur. 
She  had  brought  some  books  and  pictures  for  him. 
Tears  of  joy  came  into  Sjur's  eyes.  The  little 
freckled  face  shone. 


270  SANPRIEL 

"  And  isn't  it  wonderful  that  you'd  think  of  me ! 
And  so  wonderfully  fine  and  nice  they  are,  too!  " 

Fru  Thammers  did  not  come  down  from  Flyen 
that  afternoon.  She  had  to  follow  Sjur  around 
with  his  pictures  and  make  him  acquainted  with 
his  new  sources  of  wisdom. 

Those  warm,  bright  autumn  days  —  how 
quietly  and  quickly  they  passed !  She  was  not  im- 
patient. It  did  her  good  to  wait.  She  felt  that 
those  days  were  making  her  over  and  giving  her 
strength  to  bear  what  was  yet  to  come. 

One  morning  Turi  came  up  with  her  breakfast, 
wearing  a  mysterious  face. 

—  Yes,  now  the  lady  would  no  longer  be  alone. 
For  the  English  people  had  come  back  at  last,  and 
Merchant  Stern  was  with  them. 

Fru  Thammers  smiled  and  thanked  her  for  the 
good  news. 

In  front  of  one  of  her  windows  stood  an  old 
ash  which  had  begun  to  shed  its  leaves.  Through 
its  branches  she  could  look  down  on  the  little  red 
cottage  which  belonged  to  Samuel  Stern. 

When  Turi  had  gone  she  went  over  and  opened 
the  window.  She  saw  him  down  on  the  little 
porch  where  he  was  taking  his  breakfast.  After- 
ward he  came  out  with  his  cigar  and  a  book,  and 
sat  down  on  Fru  Gyllenskjold's  bench. 

An  hour  later  she  went  down. 


SANPRIEL  271 

He  did  not  look  surprised  when  she  appeared. 
He  knew  that  she  was  there. 

4  You  have  done  well,"  he  said,  smiling,  "  in 
coming  back  again.  Autumn  is  the  best  time  of 
all." 

She  looked  him  frankly  in  the  eye. 

"  Samuel  Stern,  it  is  not  my  fault  that  I  have 
come  here  again.  I  could  not  do  otherwise.  It 
is  on  your  account  that  I  have  come.  I  know  that 
you  are  not  happy.  You  must  not  go  around  here 
alone.  You  must  have  some  companionship. 
And  now  I  shall  not  allow  myself  to  be  put  aside. 
I  have  a  right  to  be  here  —  your  mother  has 
given  me  permission." 

He  looked  up,  surprised  at  her  new  attitude. 
Then  he  laughed. 

"  You  say  that  I  am  unhappy.  ...  I  am  very 
glad  if  that  is  the  case.  I  would  not  have  it  other- 
wise. 

"  But  it  will  be  too  tiresome  for  you  here.  The 
English  people  fish  as  if  their  salvation  depended 
upon  it.  When  it  rains  you  can  have  the  pleas- 
ure of  seeing  My  Lady  go  off  in  her  great  rubber 
boots  .  .  .  Also,  you  may  occasionally  have  the 
exquisite  pleasure  of  seeing  me.  ...  I  should 
like  to  see  myself,  as  I  go  wandering  about  here." 

He  looked  up.     His  eyes  were  heavy. 

"  I  think  you  had  better  go.  I  don't  like  any- 
one to  see  me  as  I  am  to-day." 


27  2  SANPRIEL 

She  smiled  sadly. 

"  You  should  not  be  so  utterly  scornful  of  a  few 
words  with  me.  I  am  not  as  I  once  was.  I  have 
walked  so  long  with  my  sorrow  that  it  has  led  me 
in  where  everyone  finds  something  for  himself  — 
something  new  which  becomes  his  own.  There 
I  have  learned  to  understand  you  better." 

"  Then  perhaps  you  can  tell  me  why  one  never 
can  enjoy  a  blessing  before  he  has  lost  it  and  no 
longer  has  the  chance  to  enjoy  it.  ...  When  one 
has  it  one  does  not  enjoy  it  because  he  has  it.  I 
wonder  if  that  is  not  the  great  curse  on  the  human 
race,  which  of  old  was  pronounced  upon  the  earth, 
that  one  should  never  possess  what  he  does 
possess." 

She  wanted  to  say  something,  but  could  not. 
They  both  sat  there  in  silence. 

Then  he  turned  hastily  toward  her. 

"  You  must  not  trouble  yourself  about  me. 
After  all,  I  am  happy  and  light  of  heart,  for  now 
nothing  more  can  happen  to  me.  Now  that  the 
worst  has  happened,  I  don't  care  a  rap  about  the 
rest." 

He  rose,  brushed  the  ashes  from  his  cigar,  then 
laid  it  down  again. 

"  Yes,  I  am  quite  happy  and  light-hearted,  now 
that  there  is  nothing  more  for  which  I  long. 
There  is  certainly  no  pleasure  in  that  deep  and 
painful  longing  which  is  always  mingled  with  re- 


SANPRIEL  273 

gret  that  one  never  accomplishes  what  one  wants 
to.  When  all  that  is  gone,  one  is  no  longer  con- 
scious of " 

Thora  Thammers  rose  also. 

"  I  wish  you  would  go  for  a  walk  with  me." 

"  Why?  So  that  you  can  comfort  me ?  I  have 
just  confessed  to  you  that  I  do  not  need  it.  I 
have  such  a  strangely  post-festive  nature.  There 
is  always  so  much  that  I  forget  to  say.  Where 
do  you  wish  to  go  ?  " 

He  went  inside  and  then  came  back  again. 

"  I  am  not  grieving,  for  I  do  not  think  it  is  true. 
It  annoys  me  when  people  come  and  talk  about  it. 
Where  do  you  wish  to  go?  " 

"  Can  we  not  go  to  the  Falls?  There  is  no  one 
there  now  — 

"  I  have  always  enjoyed  looking  at  the  Falls," 
she  continued  —  for  it  seemed  best  to  talk  about 
something  else.  "  There  is  a  certain  satisfaction 
in  watching  the  water  plunge  down  and  then  away, 
for  it  seems  to  take  with  it  something  of  that  which 
overwhelms  and  crushes  one." 

"  Humph,  no !  We  will  not  go  to  the  Falls. 
All  that  which  goes  and  goes  and  does  not  come 
again,  I  cannot  endure  it.  I  want  things  to  re- 
turn. I  want  my  mother  to  come  back  again  as 
she  always  did  before,  when  she  had  been  away 
anywhere —  Well,  I  suppose  we'd  better  go 
somewhere." 


274  SANPRIEL 

He  took  up  his  hat.  "  But  if  you  like  the 
Falls,  in  Heaven's  name  let  us  go  to  the  Falls." 

They  started  down  the  slope.  He  began  to  talk 
about  indifferent  matters  —  made  fun  of  the  Eng- 
lish people,  every  now  and  then  however,  unex- 
pectedly interrupting  himself  with  the  thoughts 
that  filled  his  mind. 

He  stopped. 

"  Now  she  has  begun  to  come  back  to  me. 
When  I  am  wandering  about  at  night,  if  I  am  in 
the  right  mood,  then  some  one  comes  and  walks 
by  my  side.  Before  this  I  used  to  imagine  it  was 
another  who  came  and  greeted  me  so  graciously 
and  said :  '  Now  I  am  coming  back  to  you  again.' 
But  now,  since  my  mother  left  me,  it  is  she  who 
comes.  When  all  is  quiet  and  no  human  being  is 
near,  then  she  comes  and  calls  me  with  her  loving 
voice,  that  unforgettable  voice.  And  she  comes 
and  walks  silently  by  my  side." 

He  turned  toward  her. 

"  I  know  what  you  are  thinking.  Yes,  your 
face  expresses  just  what  you  would  say:  'But 
your  mother  was  old,  so  you  must  have  expected 
this.'  Froken  Marit  said  something  like  that  the 
other  day.  She  thought  she  was  saying  some- 
thing comforting.  '  Yes,'  I  answered,  '  you  are 
quite  right.  It  was  of  course  just  what  I  had  been 
expecting.'  ' 


SANPRIEL  275 

His  tone  wounded  her.  They  went  on  down 
the  slope. 

She  remained  silent.  She  thought  it  was  better 
for  him  to  go  on  and  express  his  feelings  without 
any  words  from  her. 

"  I  cannot  bear  the  emptiness  of  her  rooms  there 
at  home  —  and  mine  are  the  same  way  —  although 
she  was  seldom  in  them.  It  has  seemed  to  me  that 
she  was  away  on  a  journey.  But  now  I  can  en- 
dure it  no  longer,  now  she  certainly  must  come 
home  again For  you  see,  it  was  just  as  cer- 
tain as  that  day  follows  .night,  that  whenever  I 
came  home,  there  I  would  find  Mother  sitting  in 
her  chair.  I  could  go  to  her  and  renew  my 
strength. 

"  I  keep  on  saying:  '  My  mother  thinks  this,' 
and  *  Mother  always  says  that.'  I  pretend  that 
she  still  lives.  I  cannot  have  it  otherwise.  .  .  . 

"  In  the  past  it  often  happened  that  I  did  things 
that  I  knew  she  did  not  like.  Now  that  she  is  no 
longer  here,  I  have  a  burning  desire  to  do  every- 
thing as  I  think  she  would  have  me  do  it." 

He  turned  sharply  toward  her.  '  What  do 
you  think  about  all  this? 

"  And  I  am  stricken  with  remorse  that  I  was 
not  with  her  at  the  time.  .  .  .  For  the  thought 
that  she  would  not  have  come  had  it  been  I  who 
lay  there,  is  inconceivable. 

"  I  was  abroad  at  the  time.     I  thought:     *  Of 


276  SANPRIEL 

course  Mother  will  soon  be  all  right  again.'  .  .  . 
Then  came  a  few  days  when  I  deliberately  put  my 
mind  on  other  matters  —  for  I  could  not  bear  to 
think  of  Mother  being  ill.  It  is  dreadful  that 
one  should  be  so 

"  I  have  really  been  quite  beside  myself.  .  .  . 
I  can  remember  wondering  how  it  could  be  pos- 
sible for  Mother  to  die.  She  must  of  course  die 
some  time  —  but  how  it  could  come  about  I  could 
not  comprehend,  for  she  was  stronger  than  any- 
one I  knew.  That  which  the  rest  of  us  were 
afraid  of  and  pushed  from  us,  she  was  able  to 
endure.  We  did  not  know  that  it  was  because 
she  had  such  boundless  courage  and  will  to  bear 
all  burdens.  I  understood  her  so  poorly.  Not 
until  she  was  gone  did  I  realize  how  tired  she 
must  have  been,  after  this  long  life  of  bearing  the 
burdens  of  others. 

"  I  was  so  accustomed,  when  things  were  at 
their  worst,  to  go  to  Mother.  She  gave  me 
strength  to  live  again.  I  always  found  her  there. 
I  believe  I  must  have  thought  that  when  death 
itself  should  sometime  come  to  me,  she  would  be 
there  to  ward  off  the  blow 

"  I  am  consumed  with  remorse  that  I  should 
have  been  so  close  to  her,  and  yet  I  did  not  see 
that  she  was  tired.  ...  I  did  not  understand 
that  her  evening  had  come  .  .  .  and  that  she 
needed  rest." 


SANPRIEL  277 

Thora  Thammers  turned  toward  him. 

;'  What  are  you  looking  for?  "  she  asked  softly. 

"  Oh,  just  for  some  flowers  that  used  to  grow 
here,  but  there  are  none  now." 

"  It  is  not  the  season  for  them,"  she  said 
gently. 

"  No,  it  certainly  is  not  —  the  leaves  are  fall- 
ing." 

As  they  walked  they  both  watched  the  leaves 
which  were  falling  down  about  them. 

"  Never  again !  Past  and  gone !  Those 
words  seem  to  inclose  something  that  is  eternally 
sealed,  forever  incomprehensible  to  the  human 
heart.  And  sorrow  and  death  —  one  has  no  con- 
ception what  they  are.  One  may  indeed  think 
he  knows,  but  he  never  does  until  they  come  to 
him 

"  It  is  well,  I  think,  that  there  is  no  one  to 
grieve  for  me  ...  no  one  left  who  belongs  to 
me.  Yes,  when  one  becomes  acquainted  with 
sorrow  and  learns  how  it  rises  with  the  sun  fresh 
and  new  every  morning,  and  does  not  diminish 
with  the  day  .  .  .  when  one  knows  the  grip  it 
takes  on  one's  nerves,  then  it  is  well,  if  one  can 
save  anyone  else  from " 

He  bent  down. 

"  See,  I  have  found  one  anyway  ...  It  is 
Mother's  favorite  flower.  It  blossoms  anew 


278  SANPRIEL 

among  the  falling  leaves,  like  these  last  days  of 
sunshine  which  come  as  unexpected  gifts." 

She  smiled  at  him.  "  Be  sure  you  accept 
them." 

11  Just  now  I  recall  a  sunny  day,  but  it  was  in 
early  summer  —  one  of  my  first  recollections  — 
my  grandmother's  funeral.  A  bell  was  tolling 
and  there  were  quantities  of  white  lilies.  The 
deep  notes  of  the  bell  and  the  heavy  odor  of  the 
flowers  produced  a  strange  impression  upon  me. 

"  I  did  not  understand  it.  I  had  never  seen 
death  before  and  I  knew  nothing  about  it.  But 
the  fragrance,  the  flowers,  the  heavy  tones  of  the 
bell,  and  all  the  solemn,  black-robed  people  filled 
me  with  vague  apprehension. 

"  They  gave  me  cake  to  eat.  It  was  maca- 
roons, and  I  ate  with  the  feeling  that  there  was 
something  weirdly  mysterious  surrounding  me. 

"  Later,  of  course,  I  forgot  it,  got  away  from 
it.  Yet  I  never  afterward  thought  of  death  ex- 
cept as  of  something  far  removed  from  myself  — 
an  empty  spectacle  which  signified  nothing. 

"  I  dreamed  about  Mother  last  night.  I 
thought  I  was  a  little  child  again,  and  I  was  run- 
ning about  calling  for  her.  She  heard  me  and 
came,  and  said  so  softly:  '  Can  you  not  let  me 
rest  now,  my  child,  my  little  silken  lamb?  ' —  she 
called  me  that  when  I  was  small.  And  I  an- 
swered as  I  usually  did  when  I  was  little :  '  Yes, 


SANPRIEL  279 

I  know  that  I  am  your  silken  lamb,  but  you  arc 
also  my  little  lamb.' 

"  And  I  held  her  fast  in  my  arms.  I  would  not 
let  her  go  again.  She  said  to  me :  *  You  see, 
now  I  shall  come  to  you  almost  every  night.  We 
were  together  so  little  before,  you  remember.  It 
was  very  hard  for  me  to  send  you  out  into  the 
world  so  early,  but  now  I  can  come  to  you. 
Whenever  you  are  in  trouble  you  may  know  that 

I  will  come  ' It  is  pleasant  to  delude  oneself 

with  such  dreams.  .  .  .  See  that  dragonfly  sitting 
there  in  the  sunshine.  It  does  not  move  —  there 
is  but  the  slightest  quiver  to  its  wings.  It  is  at 
peace.  One  ought  to  learn  from  it  how  to  make 
better  use  of  the  sunshine." 

"  One  ought  to  indeed."  She  looked  at  her 
watch.  "  It  is  later  than  I  thought.  We  must 
turn  back.  But  see,  how  beautiful  it  is  yonder! 
There  above  the  heather!" 

He  laughed.  "  Your  heart  surely  does  not 
know  what  beauty  is,  for  that  is  nothing  but  a 
mirage." 

"Is  it?"  She  looked  as  though  she  did  not 
want  to  believe  it.  She  sighed  softly  and  stood 
there  silently  with  bowed  head. 

"  But  we  must  go.  Lady  Hammond  will  be 
sitting  at  the  chess-board  waiting  for  you,"  she 
added  gayly.  "  She  is  bored  with  her  lord  and 
you  promised  her  yesterday  to  be  there." 


280  SANPRIEL 

"  You  are  right.  One  has  duties.  And  you ! 
You  go  about  grieving  for  your  husband  and  long- 
ing for  your  little  children,  and  now  you  have  be- 
gun to  look  after  those  who  are  lost.  You  must 
not  overdo." 

His  voice  had  again  taken  on  that  strangely 
distant  tone.  She  looked  quickly  up  at  him. 

In  silence  they  walked  homeward. 

She  was  thinking  as  she  walked,  of  what  he 
had  said.  How  his  mother  must  have  loved  him 
—  such  a  deep  impression  she  had  made  upon  his 
soul! 

Never  as  now  had  she  had  such  a  humiliating 
sense  of  the  immeasurable  distance  between  such 
a  mother's  silent,  self-forgetful  love,  and  that 
which  she  once  had  felt  for  him. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

SEVERAL  days  had  passed. 
Lady  Hammond  was  in  raptures  over  her 
fellow  guests.  Now  it  was  really  quite  pleasant 
here.  There  was  just  one  thing  at  fault,  and  that 
was  that  neither  the  Norwegian  lady  nor  the  Nor- 
wegian lord  could  be  persuaded  to  go  fishing  with 
them. 

One  afternoon  the  whole  family  went  off  down 
the  river.  The  weather  was  good  again  and 
Thora  Thammers  went  up  on  Flyen.  She  wan- 
dered about  for  a  time,  then  it  occurred  to  her 
that  she  would  go  over  to  the  place  where  Samuel 
Stern  had  sat  with  his  mother. 

As  she  came  around  to  the  huge  bowlder  that 
lay  just  opposite,  she  saw  him  there.  His  face 
.was  brighter  than  was  usual  these  days  when  he 
sat  alone. 

She  turned  to  go  away,  but  he  smiled  at  her. 

"  Won't  you  come  over  and  sit  here  for  awhile? 
I  have  scarcely  seen  you  for  a  long  time." 

So  she  went  on. 

They  began  to  talk  of  the  everyday  happenings 
up  there. 

He  told  about  the  English  people,  and  about 
281 


282  SANPRIEL 

Marit  Hennerud,  who  would  not  allow  herself 
to  be  engaged.  One  of  the  unhappy  swains  who 
had  been  waiting  for  her  had  recently  been  up 
there.  He  was  one  of  the  most  desirable  matches 
in  the  district,  but  she  would  not  even  shake  hands 
with  him,  so  his  prospects  were  not  of  the  bright- 
est. 

Thora  Thammers  grew  quite  gay.  "  No,  she 
never  believes  it  is  the  right  one  who  has  come. 
The  family  is  quite  vexed  about  it." 

But  suddenly  there  was  nothing  more  to  talk 
about. 

The  heather  looked  so  fresh  after  the  rain, 
which  also  had  brought  out  the  pungent  odor  of 
the  dwarf  birch.  Mingled  with  this  was  the 
sweet,  wild  fragrance  of  the  myrica.  The  air  was 
soft  and  mild,  and  above  were  the  vast  slopes 
wrapped  in  a  bluish  haze. 

They  both  sat  there  looking  up  at  the  white 
mountain. 

Then  he  turned  around  toward  her. 

"  I  dreamed  so  much  last  night." 

"  Tell  me  about  it,"  she  said  softly. 

"  I  thought  I  had  just  gotten  home.  I  sat  be- 
side Mother's  bed  and  read  to  her  about  Moses 
and  the  Promised  Land.  Then  the  Lord  himself 
came  and  said  to  her:  '  See,  now  I  will  give  you 
the  land.  It  is  yours.  I  will  surround  you  with 
splendor  and  you  shall  rule  over  all  that  your  soul 


SANPRIEL  283 

desires.'  .  .  .  And  I  thought  she  smiled  at  me. 
I  felt  her  failing  glance. 

"  I  slept  on,  heavily.  I  was  going  about 
searching  for  something.  I  could  not  understand 
what  had  become  of  her.  An  angel  came  and  I 
said :  '  Tell  me,  you  who  soar  on  high,  did  you 
see  my  mother?  Tell  me  if  you  saw  her  up  there 
in  that  land  of  hers,  surrounded  by  all  her  splen- 
dor. You  surely  can  lighten  this  bitterness  which 
fills  me  at  the  thought  that  she  no  longer  lives, 
that  I  shall  never  see  her  again.' 

"  The  angel  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  then  I 
found  her.  She  was  sitting  in  her  chair  and  was 
bright  and  happy.  We  were  both  so  happy.  For 
it  was  such  a  comfort  to  have  an  opportunity  at 
last  to  tell  her  how  much  I  loved  her. 

"I  talked  plainly  with  her:  'You  dear  old 
Mother,  how  fortunate  that  I  have  found  you  at 
last.  Tell  me,  did  you  know  how  I  went  about 
seeking  for  you?  You  did  not  know  how  deso- 
late and  cold  it  was  here,  and  how  I  suffered  when 
you  were  away.  Can  you  feel  how  wet  my  brow 
is?  Now  I  will  rest  here  with  you.' 

"  I  took  both  her  hands :  '  You  wonderful 
Mother,  I  knew  indeed  that  you  would  come 
again.  There  is  so  much  for  you  to  do.  You 
must  care  for  us  all.  You  must  love  us  as  no  one 
can  but  you.  It  is  so  pleasant  when  you  come  in 
this  way,  as  you  must  often  do.'  And  I  asked  her 


284  SANPRIEL 

advice.  When  she  comes,  I  always  ask  about  so 
many  things 

"  Then  she  gazed  so  mildly  upon  me :  '  But 
now  I  must  go,  my  child.  You  know  indeed  that 
life  is  over  for  me.'  But  I  held  her  fast. 
'  Mother,  you  must  not  go !  See,  how  I  wander 
about  here,  unable  to  sleep  for  painful  thoughts. 
In  the  past,  whenever  I  came  you  were  waiting 
for  me.  I  will  bring  an  easier  chair  for  you.  I 
will  fetch  the  best  that  is  to  be  found.  Mother, 
you  do  not  know  how  it  tortures  me,  the  thought 
that  I  never  did  anything  for  you  ' 

"  Then  I  saw  that  she  had  vanished.  Far  in 
through  the  gloom  she  had  withdrawn,  while  I 
was  searching  for  a  more  comfortable  chair.  .  .  . 
Such  a  wonderful  night  it  was!  " 

Thora  Thammers  sat  half  turned  away. 

"  There  is  more,"  she  said  quietly.  '  You 
must  tell  it  all." 

He  did  not  hear  what  she  said.  He  sat  with 
his  head  bowed  in  his  hands. 

"  I  thought  that  I  awoke  then,  and  got  up.  It 
was  not  yet  light.  I  came  up  here.  Then  I  saw 
her  in  the  distance.  '  Mother,'  I  said,  '  why  are 
you  so  far  away?  Come  over  here  and  talk  with 
me  awhile.  You  do  not  know  how  unhappy  I  am 
because  I  was  not  with  you  when  you  were  ill. 
I  am  so  consumed  with  remorse  that  I  cannot  lie 
in  my  bed  at  night.'  '  Yes,'  said  Mother,  '  I 


SANPRIEL  285 

know,  but  you  must  not  think  of  that  any  longer. 
Now  you  must  promise  me  that  you  will  not  think 
about  it.'  Then  she  came  and  walked  by  my  side. 
I  knelt  down  before  her:  'Now  at  last  I  must 
tell  you  something.  Yes,  there  are  three  things 
I  have  forgotten  to  say  to  you.  You  said  the  pain 
would  soon  be  over  when  once  we  had  lost  you^ 
Now  you  can  see  that  it  is  not  so.  You  also  said 
that  time  heals  all  wounds  —  neither  is  that  in 
the  least  bit  true.  Never  again  can  I  forget,  such 
torture  it  is,  that  I  saw  you  that  last  time,  and 
merely  took  your  hand  hurriedly,  and  met  your 
gaze  without  knowing  that  we  should  not  see  one 
another  the  next  day  —  nor  ever  again ! ' 

"  '  Yes,  but,  my  child,'  she  said,  '  you  must  not 
think  about  that ' 

"  Then  I  thought  that  I  did  her  some  little 

service,  and  she  thanked  me  for  it.  She  was  al- 
ways so  grateful  for  the  least  favor.  It  tortured 
me,  because  I  had  always  done  so  little  for  her; 
and  I  had  never  had  a  chance  to  say  how  I  regret- 
ted it.  But  here  at  last  was  the  opportunity: 
'  Mother,  you  must  never  thank  me.  It  hurts  me 
when  you  do  so.  It  is  like  a  stone  on  my  breast. 
For  it  is  I  who  should  thank  you  eternally  —  it  is 
never  you.  You  know  I  have  never  done  any- 
thing for  you,  have  never  thanked  you  once  for 
all  that  you  have  done  for  me.'  I  was  glad  that 
at  last  I  had  a  chance  to  tell  her  this. 


286  SANPRIEL 

"  Is  it  not  tiresome  for  you  sitting  here  listen- 
ing to  all  this?" 

She  did  not  answer,  but  merely  looked  at  him. 

As  he  continued  to  sit  there  in  silence,  she  asked 
finally:  "  Is  there  nothing  more?  " 

"  I  thought  that  again  all  grew  dark  and  heavy. 
I  went  everywhere  inquiring  for  Mother.  There 
was  some  one  who  said  that  she  had  gone  away. 
I  thought  that  was  so  ridiculous.  Finally  she 
came.  '  Dear  Mother,  how  is  it  that  I  have  not 
seen  you  for  so  long?  It  is  fortunate  that  you 
have  come,  for  there  are  a  thousand  things  that  I 
must  say  to  you.  But  why  do  you  come  so  si- 
lently? How  are  you?  Are  you  sleeping  any 
better  now?  Do  you  remember,  you  said  that 
last  night:  "It  is  so  hard  that  I  cannot  sleep, 
either  day  or  night."  Is  it  better  now,  since  the 
long,  silent  night  has  come?  Is  it  true,  Mother, 
the  saying:  "  Deep  is  the  sleep  of  death,  soft  is 

its  pillow  of  dust  "  ? Mother,  how  glad  I 

am  to  hear  your  voice.  It  is  so  desolate  when  you 
are  not  here  —  so  empty  when  I  do  not  know  that 

you  will  soon  come  again  ' Then  I  thought 

that  I  stood  beside  her  grave,  and  she  followed 
me  toward  home.  '  You  must  not  take  it  to 
heart,'  she  said.  '  You  must  not  fret  about  it. 
Do  you  not  feel  that  I  am  with  you? ' 

"  Then  my  heart  trembled  within  me.  '  Yes, 
but  you  must  never  leave  me  again.' 


SANPRIEL  287 

"  But  when  we  came  to  the  door  of  the  old 
home  I  grew  anxious,  for  I  saw  she  had  wings. 
*  You  will  surely  go  in,  Mother.'  Then  she 
smiled  quietly.  '  Dear  child,  do  you  not  know 
that  I  have  won  through?'  And  she  turned  to- 
ward me  and  breathed  peace  upon  me 

"  I  tried  to  reach  her  with  my  arms  —  then  I 
awoke Now  since  she  is  gone,  I  have  be- 
gun to  believe  that  there  must  be  a  place  up 
there  — 

"  I  wanted  so  much  to  have  her  closer  to  me, 
so  that  I  could  make  her  old  age  more  comfort- 
able than  I  had  done  before  in  my  thoughtless- 
ness. And  she  had  promised  that  this  summer 

she  would  come How  much  she  thought  of 

me  even  in  death  I  She  wanted  to  spare  me  — 
no  one  must  tell  me  how  it  was.  A  mother's  love 
—  that  is  the  only  thing  of  which  nothing,  not 
even  our  own  baseness,  can  deprive  us." 

"  Shall  we  go  home  now  and  play  chess  with 
My  Lady?" 

"  You  must  not  do  that.  You  ought  rather  to 
go  home  and  rest.  You  are  tired.'' 

"  Mother  always  said:  *  One  has  no  right  to 
be  tired.'  She  was  never  tired.  It  was  in  that 
way  she  deceived  us,  who  were  short-sighted  and 
weak-hearted  to  such  a  degree  that  we  believed 
that  she  was  divine  and  never  could  wear  out. 


288  SANPRIEL 

Yes,  she  deceived  me  to  that  extent,  and  in  the 
unspeakable  simplicity  of  my  heart  I  came  at  last 
to  believe  that  Mother  was  immortal.  In- 
credible as  it  may  seem,  when  other  old  people 
died  I  thought  it  was  all  right;  but  with  Mother 
death  had  nothing  to  do,  he  must  not  come  near 
her. 

"  Can  you  remember?  No,  you  never  saw  her 
after  all.  She  loved  military  music  when  it  was 
out  in  the  open,  under  the  great  blue  heavens. 
It  seemed  to  loosen  bound  forces  within  her,  and 
how  her  eyes  would  shine.  Deep  in  her  soul  was 
a  longing  for  flight,  far  up  through  the  vast  spaces 
of  heaven.  But  she  was  bound,  so  she  folded 
her  wings  together.  She  possessed  great  power, 
and  that  silent,  deep  courage  which  would  not 
allow  itself  to  be  troubled.  She  bowed  beneath 
her  burdens  and  endured  them.  She  was  invinci- 
ble —  and  thought  everything  should  be  borne 
and  carried  on  to  victory.  For  that  reason  Na- 
poleon was  her  hero. 

"  As  I  grew  up  and  came  to  my  understanding 
I  acquired  great  reverence  for  this  view.  All 
that  I  knew  of  suffering,  each  daily  sorrow  or 
grief,  became  as  nothing  in  the  presence  of  those 
quiet,  courageous  eyes,  those  blessed  blue  eyes 
which  knew  so  much 

Her  beautiful,  clear  voice  meant  so  much 

to  us  children.  It  brought  such  a  sense  of  se- 


SANPRIEL  289 

curity  with  it.  And  when  she  sang  to  us  or  read 
to  us  —  it  was  always  a  time  of  rejoicing.  Her 
voice  never  grew  old,  as  other  people's  do. 
Through  all  the  years  it  kept  its  soft,  sweet 
note 

"  It  is  very  wicked  of  me  that  I  cannot  allow 
her  to  rest.  Death  is  indeed  a  kingly  reward. 
It  is  the  crown  of  life.  I  surely  ought  not  to 
grudge  her  that." 

Thora  Thammers  was  moved  and  looked  at 
him  compassionately.  "  Yes,  yes,"  she  whis- 
pered. 

"  It  is  hard  for  me.  But  that  which  troubles 
me  more  in  the  daytime  than  in  my  dreams,  is 
the  fact  that  I  was  not  with  her  when  she  died  — 
that  it  was  not  I  who  wiped  the  sweat  from  her 
brow,  lifted  her  up  in  bed  and  cared  for  her.  She 
herself  thought  that  it  was  best  for  me  not  to 
see  how  she  suffered.  But  it  has  brought  its  own 
punishment.  Now  I  see  it  all  continually.  I  en- 
dure her  suffering  with  her I  have  always 

been  so  miserably  weak.  In  certain  ways  I  am 
abnormally  sensitive.  So  I  have  been  accustomed 
to  set  my  teeth  together  and  throw  all  such  things 
from  me.  But  not  now  —  now  I  let  them  come." 

A  pained  expression  came  into  his  face.  He 
rose,  started  off  —  then  came  back  and  sat  down 
again. 


29o  SANPRIEL 

"  There  is  something  else  also  that  has  begun 
to  trouble  me  — " 

Thora  Thammers  rose  and  laid  her  hand  on  his 
arm. 

"  Now  we  must  go  home.  Your  mother  said 
that  you  must  think  of  this  no  more.  You  know 
very  well  she  would  never  want  you  to  go  on 
dwelling  upon  all  this,  although  I  think  it  is  bet- 
ter for  you  that  you  have  told  me  about  it.  I 
believe  it  will  be  easier  for  you  to  rise  above  it." 

He  looked  up,  surprised  at  her  confident  tone. 

He  rose  and  they  went  down  the  slope. 

"I  am  a  wretch,  do  you  not  think  so?  Of 
course  it  will  become  easier.  It  will  be  easier, 
you  know,  next  week  when  I  take  up  my  cor- 
respondence, and  then  when  I  get  down  to  the 
office  again." 

At  the  foot  of  the  hill  they  saw  Lady  Ham- 
mond coming.  His  face  changed. 

"  See  how  confident  and  alert  she  is.  She  is 
utterly  amazed  at  the  thought  that  there  is  any 
human  being  who  is  not  content.  The  only  trou- 
ble is  that  people  do  bore  one  another  —  that  she 
admits." 

"And  the  Lord?  Do  you  know,  he  wants  to 
write  a  book  about  Norway." 

"  And  so  he  wants  to  write !  Perhaps  that 
would  be  better,  for  everything  he  says  is  so  ab- 
surd." 


SANPRIEL  291 

Then  up  came  Lady  Hammond,  waving  her 
hand  and  beaming  with  enthusiasm.  She  had 
waited  for  him  at  the  chess-board,  and  could  talk 
of  nothing  but  of  how  she  would  avenge  herself. 


CHAPTER  XX 

SOME  more  guests  had  arrived.  It  was 
Marit  Hennerud's  third  season. 

They  were  hunters  and  fishermen.  Also  from 
the  district  down  below  came  some  of  Marit's 
friends  who  were  now  going  to  have  a  little  holi- 
day themselves. 

Among  them  were  a  couple  of  stout  young 
guardsmen  whom  Thora  Thammers  enjoyed. 
Simple  and  natural  in  character,  and  with  honest, 
open  mind,  they  were  as  refreshing  and  invigor- 
ating as  the  air  itself  was  up  there. 

Thora  Thammers  felt  stronger  than  she  had 
felt  for  many  years.  It  seemed  that  now,  for  the 
first  time,  she  could  rest  —  and  work.  Madame 
Harder  had  once  said  that  if  one  wanted  to  get 
things  straightened  out,  one  must  begin  with 
oneself.  Almost  unconsciously  she  had  come  to 
this  point  of  view.  She  had  not  thought  that  she 
agreed  with  it;  but  she  noticed  that  after  she  had 
begun  work  on  her  inner  self,  her  vision  had 
grown  clearer  and  her  bitterness  had  gradually 
disappeared. 

She  almost  laughed,  for  now  for  the  first  time 
one  day  she  discovered  that  Sjur  had  scarcely  any 

292 


SANPRIEL  293 

clothes.  She  had  no  time  now  for  long  walks, 
but  began  to  knit  stockings  and  make  shirts. 
There  was  healing  in  this  also,  she  discovered. 

The  days  passed.  She  saw  very  little  of  Sam- 
uel Stern.  He  was  occupied  with  business  mat- 
ters, and  also  went  off  on  hunting  excursions,  so 
that  at  times  several  days  passed  without  seeing 
him.  She  no  longer  sought  him  either,  except 
when  she  thought  it  was  bad  for  him  to  be  alone. 
She  could  tell  that  by  looking  at  his  face. 

One  day  as  she  sat  outside  with  her  work  he 
came  over  to  see  her. 

"  How  are  you  these  days?  I  see  so  little  of 
you.  You  seem  to  be  devoting  yourself  to  all 
kinds  of  good  work." 

She  looked  up,  smiling. 

"  And  you  to  the  task  of  idleness.  You  have 
sat  altogether  too  long  on  your  veranda  doing 
nothing.  See,  here  is  a  book  that  I  thought  I 
should  take  out  with  me.  You  may  begin  it  with 
me.  You  may  read  it  to  me." 

He  looked  at  her  in  surprise,  but  took  the  book 
and  walked  along  with  her. 

Gradually  he  recovered  from  his  surprise,  for 
it  had  come  about  that  he  always  did  whatever 
she  said.  Very  quietly,  and  unconsciously  to 
both,  she  had  acquired  a  power  over  him  which 
she  never  before  had  possessed. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  there  was  less  and  less 


294  SANPRIEL 

of  Omar  Pasha  about  him,  and  that  each  day  there 
was  more  resemblance  to  the  Samuel  Stern  she 
once  had  known. 

They  had  gotten  into  the  habit,  when  he  was  at 
home,  of  taking  daily  walks  together.  At  times 
Lady  Hammond  or  some  of  the  others  accom- 
panied them.  The  first  time  that  this  occurred 
it  struck  her  as  odd  that  any  one  else  should  be 
with  them;  but  as  she  reflected  upon  it,  it  seemed 
a  perfectly  natural  thing.  Nevertheless,  when 
they  were  alone  they  talked  more  freely  with  one 
another. 

She  talked  about  her  children  and  about 
Dyveke ;  and  whenever  a  letter  came  from  the  lat- 
ter she  always  read  it  to  him.  It  cheered  him  up. 
The  fresh  young  enthusiasm  for  everything  which 
filled  the  letters  came  to  them  like  the  jubilant 
notes  of  a  lark.  And  if  they  saw  the  mail  com- 
ing, he  was  just  as  eager  as  she  to  get  the  let- 
ters. 

When  they  were  alone  he  had  begun  to  tell  her 
about  his  business  affairs  —  and  he  always  had 
something  to  say  about  his  mother,  as  if  it  were 
a  comfort  merely  to  mention  her  name.  Even  if 
he  did  not  speak  of  her  she  could  tell  by  his  tone 
and  his  glance  when  she  was  in  his  thoughts. 

She  seemed  always  near  them  when  they  were 
alone. 

Thora  Thammers  was  glad  of  this.     In  this 


SANPRIEL  295 

way  she  was  a  help  to  him.  The  fact  that  he 
wanted  to  talk  with  her  about  his  mother  seemed 
to  her  an  undeserved  happiness. 

But  with  a  woman's  intuition  she  perceived  that 
all  thought  of  their  past  had  been  effaced  from 
his  mind.  Such  complete  forgetfulness  —  how 
merciful ! 

She  was  glad  of  it,  too,  for  there  was  justice  in 
it;  and  she  reveled  in  the  thought.  She  must 
take  care  not  to  disturb  this  condition  of  affairs. 

But  then  he  must  have  forgiven  her  entirely. 
She  clung  to  that  thought. 

Lady  Hammond,  as  well  as  others,  also  no- 
ticed that  Lord  Stern,  as  she  called  him,  had  be- 
come less  irritable  and  more  sociable. 

He  enraptured  her  one  day  by  expressing  a  de- 
sire to  go  with  them  on  a  fishing  excursion.  She 
ascribed  it  to  the  chess.  She  had  long  ago  dis- 
covered that  there  was  a  refining  influence  about 
chess  but  unfortunately  she  had  never  been  able 
to  get  her  own  lord  to  try  it. 

The  fishing  trip  proved  to  be  longer  than  they 
had  expected,  and  even  more  romantic  than  Lady 
Hammond  had  imagined. 

They  got  lost  in  the  woods,  had  to  stay  at  the 
mountain  dairies,  and  spent  two  nights  in  deserted 
cabins. 

Lady  Hammond  was  more  than  enthusiastic, 
while  the  Lord  took  notes  for  his  book.  Samuel 


296  SANPRIEL 

Stern  grew  tired  of  it  all  and  wished  himself 
home  again. 

When  they  finally  returned,  wet  and  loaded 
down  with  booty,  they  had  been  away  almost  a 
week. 

Lord  Stern  had  been  cross,  Lady  Hammond 
confessed. 

Marit  Hennerud  would  not  believe  this.  She 
looked  after  him  as  if  she  had  been  his  mother; 
and  the  fire  on  the  hearth  had  never  burned  more 
cheerily. 

At  last  Fru  Thammers  came  down  and  wel- 
comed their  return.  Yes,  she  had  heard  that 
they  were  back,  but  had  to  finish  some  work  be- 
fore coming  down. 

They  dined  on  a  remarkable  fish,  then  gath- 
ered around  the  hearth  where  they  rested  and 
warmed  themselves,  while  Lady  Hammond  re- 
counted all  their  amazing  adventures  in  her  won- 
derful Norwegian  English. 

Samuel  Stern  sat  silent,  leaning  toward  the  fire, 
his  head  resting  on  his  hand. 

Lady  Hammond  was  not  so  much  engrossed  in 
her  story  but  that  she  noticed  how  the  flame 
lighted  up  the  handsome  head  with  its  curly  hair. 
Her  own  lord  was  so  bald. 

Samuel  Stern  sat  looking  at  Thora  Thammers 
in  a  surprised  sort  of  way.  It  seemed  as  if  he  did 
not  really  recognize  her,  or  as  if,  after  this  ab- 


SANPRIEL  297 

sence,  he  for  the  first  time  saw  that  she  had 
changed. 

Finally  he  spoke  to  her  about  it. 

She  turned  toward  him. 

'Who  is  it  who  says:  'Sorrow  has  its  own 
reward.  It  never  leaves  us  where  it  found  us  '? 
I  hope  it  is  true.  I  needed  to  change." 

Then  she  added  more  softly:  "  I  think  I  am 
learning  a  little  each  day  —  from  your  mother." 

As  she  turned  away  again  there  was  a  gleam  of 
tears  in  her  eyes. 

The  clear,  bright  days  went  peacefully  by, 
while  the  trees  upon  the  lawn  put  on  their  yellow 
autumn  dress.  These  were  the  last,  late  days  of 
summer,  that  sometimes  come  toward  the  end  of 
September.  This  year  there  were  many  of  them. 

Lady  Hammond  would  not  go  away  while  it 
was  so  beautiful,  and  Marit  Hennerud  had  been 
obliged  to  promise  her  to  stay  a  while  longer. 
She  had  already  rented  one  of  the  cottages  for 
the  next  summer  and  also  wanted  Fru  Thammers 
to  promise  to  come  up  again. 

But  Fru  Thammers  had  shaken  her  head  with 
a  firm  little  smile. 

On  the  whole  it  was  just  as  well  not  to  have 
too  much  of  Lady  Hammond  at  one  time. 
Therefore  she  seized  the  first  opportunity  to  get 
away.  It  seemed  to  her  almost  a  crime  to  sit 


298  SANPRIEL 

inside  and  gossip  during  such  wonderful  weather 
as  they  had  been  having  the  last  few  days. 

She  went  up  on  Flyen,  up  where  Samuel  Stern 
had  sat  with  his  mother. 

She  often  went  there,  because  the  view  was 
wonderful  now  in  the  clear  autumn  air,  and  be- 
cause this  place  with  its  memories  was  a  part  of 
the  silent  life  of  her  thoughts. 

She  sat  down  on  a  stone  in  the  full  flood  of 
sunshine.  The  beams  played  about  her  in  gentle 
familiarity,  bringing  with  them  some  of  the  stored 
up  sweetness  of  summer. 

She  enjoyed  the  huge,  restful  mountains.  She 
felt  that  they  had  given  her  something  of  their 
quiet  strength  and  a  bit  of  their  tranquillity. 

For  tranquil  she  should  be.  Ever  more 

tranquil!  That  should  be  her  motto. 

The  trees,  with  minds  at  rest,  leaned  to- 
ward her  over  the  long  slopes.  They  were  her 
friends  and  she  must  thank  them,  for  they  also 
had  helped  her. 

A  little  dwarf  birch  glowed  by  her  side,  and 
straight  above  stood  some  golden  aspens,  quiv- 
ering in  the  soft  breeze.  Their  leaves  were  drop- 
ping one  by  one,  unceasingly,  sailing  softly  down 
about  her  with  a  faint  trembling  sound. 

For  an  instant  a  breath  of  wind  brought  the 
sound  of  the  Falls  as  plainly  as  though  they  were 
close  by.  She  had  not  thought  they  could  be 


SANPRIEL  299 

heard  up  here.  Someway  they  did  not  fit  in. 
Here  everything  was,  as  it  were,  ended.  She 

also  was  approaching  the  end It  was  better 

to  hear  the  river.  It  rushed  along  with  imperi- 
ous will,  but  it  was  not  stupid.  What  it  talked 
about  in  its  wild  mood  in  the  spring  it  had  forgot- 
ten— 

"  River,  what  do  you  say  as  you  hasten 

by?  Shall  all  become  tranquil  and  peaceful  in 
the  end?" 

The  answer  came  murmuring  back :  "  Have  no 
fear.  Man  shall  at  last  attain  his  goal." 

"  Yes,  of  course ! "  she  answered  in  her 
thoughts.  "  Yes,  we  know  that  is  true." 

Nevertheless,  she  continued  to  sit  there  listen- 
ing. She  thought  it  said  "  Yes,  yes,"  so  reassur- 
ingly, the  whole  way  down  the  silent,  listening 
mountain-side,  "Yes I  Yes!"  with  such  a  heavy, 
confident  murmur. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

SHE   did   not   know   what  time   it   was.     She 
thought  it  must  be  late  and  was  just  on  the 
point  of   starting  down,   when   she   saw   Samuel 
Stern  coming  up  the  slope  directly  toward  her. 

It  was  seldom  now  that  they  met  on  Flyen. 
So  she  sat  still. 

He  came  up  and  sat  down  in  his  usual  place. 

"Well!  How  are  you?  I  notice  that  you 
make  use  of  the  chess-board  and  me  as  a  means  of 
escape." 

She  assented  smilingly. 

"  How  long  are  you  going  to  stay  up  here?  " 

"  Our  Lady  has  beguiled  me  into  staying  a 
while  longer,  so  long  as  the  weather  is  pleasant." 

"  That  is  sensible.     You   are  getting  to   look 

so  much  better.     Then  you  have  so  much  to  do." 

'  You   mean   my   reading  with   Sjur.   .   .  Yes, 

that  also   is   a  reason   for  staying  a   little  while 

longer.     I  believe  that  he  will  be  benefited  by  it." 

"  He  looks  so  fine  these  days,  as  though  he 
were  ready  to  stand  at  the  altar.  Yes,  we  have 
much  to  thank  you  for,  Sjur  and  I;  but  I  am  jeal- 
ous of  him.  He  may  keep  the  shirts  and  stock- 
ings, but  why  have  you  not  read  to  me  also?  " 

300 


SANPRIEL  301 

'  You  are  facetious  to-day." 

"  Not  at  all !  I  find  that  I  am  obliged  to  leave 
this  evening  —  now,  before  supper.  I  have  al- 
ready paid  my  respects  and  said  good-by  down 
below,  and  left  a  farewell  message  for  you.  So 
it  is  indeed  fortunate  that  I  have  found  you." 

She  smiled  somewhat  heavily.  "  It  must  be 
quite  accidental  since  you  left  your  good-by  be- 
low." 

"  As  you  please !     It  is  quite  a  fortunate  acci- 
.  dent  for  me,  however.     I  want  to  thank  you  for 
what  you  have  done  for  —  Sjur  and  me." 
'  You  are  very  thoughtful,"  she  said  briefly. 

"  I  have  not  always  been  so.  But  to  speak 
seriously,  it  is  pleasant  that  we  have  met  —  is  it 
not?" 

She  did  not  answer.  It  hurt  her  that  his  com- 
ing to  say  good-by  should  be  purely  an  accident. 
She  felt  that  she  had  not  deserved  this;  but  she 
suppressed  her  feeling,  and  when  she  turned  to- 
ward him  she  was  calm  as  usual. 

"  Yes,  it  is  indeed.  I  am  glad  to  see  you  be- 
fore you  go  —  thankful  to  be  allowed  to  say 
good-by.  But  now  permit  me  to  say  a  few  words 
to  you.  There  is  something  I  would  like  to 
know,  for  there  must  no  longer  be  any  bitterness 
between  us." 

She  had  grown  somewhat  paler  than  usual,  but 


302  SANPRIEL 

sat  quietly  with  hands  folded  on  her  knee.  She 
did  not  look  at  him. 

With  a  hasty  glance  he  turned  around  facing 
her.  He  made  a  movement  as  if  to  go,  but  con- 
tinued to  sit  there  dumbly  staring  at  her. 

She  waited  a  moment  to  gain  better  control 
over  herself.  Then  she  continued: 

"  There  is  something  else  that  I  have  wanted 
to  say.  Now  I  think  I  can  do  so,  for  we  are 
really  friends,  are  we  not?  " 

He  nodded  and  she  continued,  somewhat  un- 
certainly. 

"  One  day  when  you  were  talking  about  your 
mother,  and  what  a  great  happiness  it  was  to  pos- 
sess the  love  of  a  human  being,  you  said  that  one 
always  had  a  right  to  know  if  one  were  loved, 
that  it  was  good  for  one  to  know  it  —  there  was 
strength  in  the  knowledge  —  and  no  one  had  a 
right  to  withhold  it.  You  were  filled  with  re- 
morse that  you  never  had  told  your  mother  in  so 
many  words. 

"Then  I  thought:  'That  is  true.  It  is  in- 
deed.' That  is  why  I  speak  now.  Always,  while 
I  believed  that  I  loved  Arvid  —  and  afterward  — 
it  was  always  you  alone  whom  I  loved  —  always 
you  whom  I  kept  in  my  heart  and  in  my  dreams. 
I  do  not  give  this  as  an  excuse  for  myself,  and  it 
may  indeed  sound  strange;  but  perhaps  it  may  les- 
sen the  bitterness  somewhat. 


SANPRIEL  303 

"  I  can  say  this  now,  now  that  all  else  has  been 
forgotten.  But  now  you  must  tell  me  that  you 
have  forgiven  me,  wholly  and  completely." 

He  raised  his  hands  as  if  to  shield  himself. 

She  continued:  "And  you  can  see  that  I  am 
no  longer  unhappy.  I  have  learned  much.  I 
have  reached  a  point  where  I  never  was  be- 
fore. .  .  .  Yes,  I  shall  be  happy,  merely  to  hear 
you  say  that  you  have  forgiven  me." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  It  is  you  who  must  forgive.  You  want  to  be 
my  friend,  but  I  don't  care  for  your  friendship. 
For  now  I  have  come  to  love  you  again,  but  in  a 
very  different  way.  Be  quiet,  you  need  not  be 
frightened  —  I  will  never  annoy  you  again.  But 
you  also  must  know  that  through  all  the  long 
years,  it  often  happened  that  I  would  raise  my 
head  and  look  toward  the  door,  thinking  that  you 
would  some  time  come  —  or  I  would  turn  and 
look,  hoping  to  find  you  waiting  somewhere  to 
surprise  me.  There  was  a  time  when  I  wanted 
to  hate  you.  But  that  feeling  is  long  since  gone, 
and  I  am  glad  that  now  I  love  you  so  purely  that 
I  do  not  say:  Stay,  for  the  day  is  declining. 
Stay,  that  there  may  be  some  brightness  to  lighten 
the  gloom.  I  say:  Go!  You  must  leave  me, 
and  I  shall  pray  that  all  good  may  come  to  you. 

"  To  have  seen  such  a  feeling  as  this  within  my 
heart  for  you,  grow  large  and  beautiful  until  it 


3o4  SANPRIEL 

has  reached  the  point  where  the  thought  is  no 
longer  for  self,  but  wholly  for  the  other,  is  to  an- 
ticipate the  great  mystery  which  inclines  soul  to 
soul.  It  gives  one  an  idea  that  there  is  within 
one  something  worthy  of  reverence,  something  of 
the  power  of  God  which  may  be  looked  upon  as 
a  refining  fire.  When  the  Lord  appeared  on 
Mount  Sinai,  you  know,  the  people  had  to  cleanse 
their  garments,  and  a  wall  was  set  round  about 
so  that  no  one  should  come  too  near  the  holy  place 
and  be  struck  down.  And  the  people  trembled 
and  stood  far  off.  Many  of  us  poor  mortals  have 
been  struck  down  —  because  we  have  profaned 
the  holy  place." 

His  voice  had  grown  so  mild  that  it  was  like  a 
flood  of  tenderness  streaming  toward  her. 

"  But  you  must  tell  me,  dear  one,  where  you 
will  be  so  that  I  may  know  how  you  live  and 
breathe.  You  do  not  know  what  a  comfort  it  is 
to  me  just  to  know  that  you  exist.  .  .  .  But  why 
are  you  so  pale?  Are  we  not  at  peace  now? 
May  your  feet  walk  in  ways  of  pleasantness." 

She  had  sat  with  bowed  head.  Now  she 
looked  up  with  a  pained  expression,  and  her  voice 
faltered. 

"  My  feet  found  their  way  up  here.  ...  I 
thought  —  if  I  could  be  of  some  service  to  you, 
that  would  be  the  best  thing  for  me It  is 


SANPRIEL  305 

not  I  who  am  going — it  is  you.  Yet  it  is  true 
that  time  heals  all  wounds.  There  is  still  hap- 
piness in  store  for  you.  And  when  your  rooms 
are  no  longer  empty,  when  a  happy  young  life  is 
joined  with  yours,  then  will  it  be  well  with  me. 
Then  shall  I  know  that  I  am  forgiven." 

There  was  silence. 

Then  he  rose  and  stretched  out  his  hands  to- 
ward her. 

"  I  want  you  to  tell  me,  at  any  rate,  if  you  can 
believe  me  this  time.  Do  you  not  yet  believe  me? 
I  am  determined  that  you  shall !  " 

He  grew  vehement. 

She  closed  her  eyes  and  sank  back  against  a 
bowlder. 

"  I  do  indeed  believe  you.  You  have  sat  here 
and  told  me  that  you  have  forgotten  everything, 
and  I  believe  you.  I  have,  in  fact,  seen  it  myself 
this  entire  summer  .  .  .  have  seen  it  and  felt  it 
with  heart  and  soul,  and  with  all  my  being  —  so 
I  truly  do  believe  you." 

She  added  softly:  "So  you  must  forgive  me 
for  all  I  said  that  time.  I  no  longer  think  that 
way  now.  I  only  think,  how  glad  I  should  be  if 
you  could  be  happy." 

Her  nerves  began  to  quiver.  She  tried  in  vain 
to  control  herself. 

He  sat  down  opposite  her. 


3o6  SANPRIEL 

"  Now  you  must  tell  me  in  strictest  truth 
whether  you  did  not  believe  me  that  time  also, 
when  you  said  you  never  could  believe  me 
again  .  .  .  and  if  it  were  true  that  you  had  for- 
gotten me." 

She  grew  deathly  pale. 

"  It  was  not  true.  But  I  was  afraid  of  my- 
self. It  was  I  myself  whom  I  could  not  trust. 
So  I  had  to  save  myself,  from  myself." 

He  rose  and  walked  away.  She  looked  anx- 
iously after  him. 

He  came  back  again,  stooped  and  looked  into 
her  quivering  face. 

"  May  I  take  Wolf's  place?     He  is  not  here." 

He  took  Wolf's  place  and  laid  his  head  on  her 
knee. 

Might  he  not?  He  asked  again  humbly,  long- 
ingly. 

She  could  not  answer  him.  The  wave  of  joy 
which  swelled  within  her  had  broken  softly  into 
tears. 

He  said  nothing  more. 

Then  she  bent  forward.  She  must  see  his 
face. 

He  was  weeping. 

She  pressed  her  cheek  against  his  hair  and 
closed  her  eyes.  A  flood  of  happiness  broke  over 
her  —  a  silent  ecstasy. 

Was  it  true?     Or  was  it  another  dream? 


SANPRIEL  307 

"  So  you  would  give  me  a  young  wife,"  he  mur- 
mured. 

She  laughed.  Then  her  voice  took  on  a  more 
serious  note. 

"  Because  you  had  ceased  to  think  of  me.  I 
saw  that  I  had  no  place  in  your  tsight  or  in  your 
mind." 

"  I  knew  no  better  than  that  you  had  turned 
from  me  forever.  That  time  you  said  that  you 
never  could  believe  me,  it  was  then  you  were  lost 
to  me  completely.  It  was  like  death." 

"  Forgive  me !  "     She  crept  into  his  arms. 

"  And  now  I  have  come,"  he  whispered,  "  and 
beg  for  warmth  and  shelter  —  will  you  give  them 
to  me?" 

"  No,  it  is  I  who  come  begging  that  I  may  be 
let  in  —  in  where  your  mother  is.  I  will  sit  on 
a  stool  at  her  feet  and  learn  of  her.  It  is  my 
great  loss  that  I  did  not  come  before." 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  murmured  a  moment 
later,  "  if  I  had  not  been  so  certain  that  you  had 
forgotten  me,  I  never  could  have  said  what  I  did." 

"  Then  how  thankful  I  should  be  for  my  self- 
restraint.  But  let  us  never  think  of  that  again. 
I  cannot  yet  comprehend  how  all  this  has  come 
about." 

Suddenly  her  face  changed  and  she  drew  back 
from  him. 

"  Yes,  but  after  all  it  was  merely  an  accident. 


3o8  SANPRIEL 

"And  what  of  that?  We  should  have  great 
reverence  for  what  we  call  accidents.  It  is  they 

that  shape  our  destinies You  surely  are  not 

thinking  of  leaving  me  again?  " 

He  drew  her  quickly  to  him. 

"  You  do  not  know  what  a  blessed  thing  it  is 
for  such  a  poor,  frozen  mortal  —  to  get  home." 

But  she  could  not  free  herself  from  the 
thought. 

"  Otherwise  you  would  have  gone  away.  You 
intended  to  leave  me?" 

He  looked  at  her  in  mild  reproach. 

"  I  knew  no  better,  dear.  Remember,  it  was 
you  yourself  who  had  closed  the  door  on  hope. 
Your  role  of  pitying  angel  was  an  entirely  differ- 
ent matter.  As  to  that,  it  might  have  happened 
that  I  should  have  come  again  to  see  if  you  were 
here." 

"  But  I  really  feel  that  you  ought  to  have  a 
young  wife,  a  fresh,  happy " 

He  laid  his  hand  on  her  mouth.  She  took  it 
away  and  kissed  it. 

"  Yes,  for  you  see  how  old  I  have  grown,  so 
old  that  my  hair  ought  to  be  quite  white." 

"  Dear  child,  you  do  not  yet  know  what  it  is 
to  love.  If  you  were  so  old  that  you  had  but  one 
day  more  to  live,  I  should  rejoice  that  I  had  won 
you,  so  that  we  might  have  that  day  together. 


SANPRIEL  309 

And  if  we  had  no  more  than  this  hour  here  I 
would  not  exchange  it  for  a  long  existence  with  a 
young  wife." 

He  laughed,  then  took  both  her  hands  and 
kissed  them. 

"  I  suspect  that  you  would  like  to  be  seventeen 
again,  as  you  were  that  other  time.  Fortunately 
you  cannot  be.  Let  me  confide  in  you:  the  hap- 
piness I  have  won  to-day  I  would  not  change  for 
the  bliss  of  youth,  or  for  anything  of  such  a  trivial 
nature.  Do  you  not  feel  how  much  greater  our 
happiness  is  to-day  than  it  was  then?  It  is  like 
costly  wine  which  has  grown  all  the  richer  for 
having  been  stored  away.  It  is  as  genuine  as  the 
pure,  red  gold. 

"  You  say  it  is  late.  It  is  never  too  late  for  a 
blessing  to  come  to  one.  At  whatever  time  of  life 
it  comes,  that  is  the  best.  .  .  .  But  tell  me,  what 
is  the  matter?  " 

For  her  eyes  had  grown  so  heavy.  A  shadow 
crept  over  her  face,  a  hint  of  all  she  had  suffered, 
of  all  the  tears  she  had  shed. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked  quickly. 

"  I  am  filled  with  remorse.  Have  you  for- 
given me  for  letting  life  slip  away  from  us  in  this 
way?" 

He  folded  her  quietly  in  his  arms.  "  Have 
you  forgiven  me?  For  many  years  I  have  won- 


3io  SANPRIEL 

dered  how  I  could  have  done  what  I  did  at  that 
time.  .  .  .  Yet  life  has  not  slipped  away  —  it  is 
here  when  you  smile.  When  I  hold  you  in  my 
arms,  life  is  here." 

She  looked  at  him  so  fearfully,  as  though  she 
did  not  dare  yield  to  her  happiness. 

"  Oh,  Samuel,  I  wish  you  could  see  things  as 
they  are." 

He  gazed  far  into  the  depths  of  her  eyes. 

"  Tell  me  that  you  are  content  here  with  me," 
he  begged.  "  Tell  me  that.  For  you  see,  it  has 
all  come  back.  Our  youth  is  here  again.  Is  it 
not  true  that  I  have  waited  for  you?  Why  were 

you  so  long? And  the  little  brook  among 

the  pines,  do  you  remember  how  it  rippled  and 
sang?  .  .  .  The  old  pines  still  whisper,  and  the 
little  brook  ripples  and  murmurs.  Do  you  re- 
member? " 

"  Yes,  how  we  wandered  along,  wishing  that 
time  would  stand  still." 

"  Now  all  that  has  come  back  to  us  again." 

"  Yes,"  she  whispered,  but  the  tears  stood  in* 
her  eyes.  She  turned  away  so  that  he  should  not 
see  them. 

Could  it  be  true  that  at  last  they  two  had  come 
together?  Could  it  be  that  he  sat  there  so  close 
to  her,  and  that  they  never  more  should  be  sep- 
arated? How  she  thrilled  with  happiness  merely 
to  hear  his  voice,  his  soft  breathing!  And  she 


SANPRIEL  3n 

saw  once  more  his  smile  with  the  mild  expression 
about  the  mouth. 

'  Thora,  do  you  know  what  your  name  is  like? 
It  is  deep  blue  in  color,  and  mysterious,  like  the 
mountain  up  there.  Then  it  is  full  of  hidden  sun- 
shine —  like  yourself." 

He  bent  over  her. 
'Thora,  what  are  you  thinking  about?" 

"  I  am  not  thinking.  My  thoughts  are  at 
rest." 

'  That  is  because  it  is  summer  here  .  .  .  and 
you  are  here.  And  you  are,  after  all,  only  seven- 
teen. Once  more  I  thank  God  for  you." 

"  Ah,  but  Samuel,  you  can  no  longer  see." 

"  Indeed,  I  see  that  you  have  come  back  to  me 
again,  and  each  day  shall  I  acknowledge  this 
blessing  on  bended  knee.  You  do  not  know  how 
often  I  have  longed  to  touch  your  hand.  Why 
do  you  close  your  eyes?  " 

u  Because  it  is  all  so  dazzling.  Like  a  flood  of 
light  it  comes  over  me  that  I  am  here  with  you. 
If  only  you  are  happy,  then  all  will  be  well.  It 
is  so  cozy  and  warm  with  you.  It  is  I  who  have 
been  frozen,  I  who  have  at  last  come  home.  Tell 
me  once  more  that  you  love  me,  Samuel;  once 
more.  I  am  so  hungry  to  hear  it,  to  know  that 
it  is  true." 

Silence  fell  upon  them.     All  about  was  quiet. 


3i2  SANPRIEL 

There  was  nothing  to  be  heard  but  the  stroke  of  an 
oar  from  a  solitary  boat  on  the  water  below.  It 
was  like  a  vast  cathedral  filled  with  the  peace  of 
consecration. 

She  sat  with  a  smile  on  her  lips.  A  joy  arose 
within  her  —  a  deep  and  palpitating  joy. 

To  them  it  seemed  so  good  merely  to  sit  there 
together,  knowing  that  henceforth  they  never 
again  should  part.  But  occasionally  he  felt  con- 
strained to  say  something.  Then  there  was  si- 
lence again.  Then  it  was  she  who  must  say  some- 
thing to  him,  just  so  she  would  know  that  it  was 
not  a  dream. 

As  she  had  sat  there  her  face  had  changed. 
The  heavy  lines  had  faded  away,  and  bathed  in 
light  another  face  appeared  —  a  happy  face. 

"  Samuel,  there  is  just  one  thing  I  must  ask  you 
again.  Do  you  really  love  me  still?  It  seems 
so  wonderful  to  me  that  I  must  ask  you  once 
more." 

He  did  not  answer  her  question.  He  only 
made  some  foolish  remark  which  had  no  meaning 
in  it,  but  which  touched  her  deeply. 

"  Samuel,  you  forget  entirely  the  years  that 
have  passed." 

"  How  different  my  name  sounds  as  it  comes 
from  your  lips !  It  is  like  a  new  name,  soft  and 
mild,  with  depths  of  feeling,  and  it  seems  to  bring 
a  blessing  with  it.  Say  it  again.  You  never  said 


SANPRIEL  313 

it  that  way  in  the  past.     Your  voice  was  not  capa- 
ble of  it  before." 

1  The  white  dress  you  had  on  that  time  you 
left  me,  what  have  you  done  with  it?  You  must 
wear  just  such  a  dress  when  you  come  to  me  now, 
so  that  I  may  know  you  have  really  come  again." 

"  But,  Samuel,  everyone  will  laugh  at  me." 
'  What  difference  will  it  make  with  my  happi- 
ness if  people  do  laugh?     Can  you  tell  me?  " 

She  could  not. 

"  But  there  is  one  thing  that  I  have  completely 
forgotten  to  ask  you.  Can  you  love  me?  Can 
you  hold  me  in  your  heart  forever?  Can  you 
keep  in  mind  our  enchanted  life  here  on  Flyen? 
For  that  is  the  best  of  all  — 

"  And  your  little  bluebells,  they  are  here.  Do 
you  hear  them?  " 

She  laughed. 

"  I  was  just  going  to  ask  if  you  could  — " 

"  How  soft  and  sweet  your  laugh  is  1  You  do 
not  know  how  musical  it  is,  and  how  your  face 
grows  young  as  you  laugh.  What  did  you  say?  " 

"  I  said  nothing.  It  is  impossible  to  say  any- 
thing, for  there  is  so  much  to  be  said." 

"  Do  you  hear  how  the  pine  trees  are  singing 
over  there  on  the  slope?  I  never  heard  the  for- 
est sing  as  it  does  to-night.  And  here  comes  our 
brother  the  wind.  Let  us  thank  God  for  wind 


3i4  SANPRIEL 

and  weather,  for  storm  and  silence,  for  our  sister 
the  moon  and  all  the  bright  little  stars  —  and  for 
life."  1 

He  became  anxious,  for  she  had  grown  so  pale. 
He  drew  the  little  shawl  carefully  around  her. 

"You  are  tired;  you  must  sit  perfectly  quiet." 

She  smiled.     "  I  will  think  of  you." 

She  crept  closer  to  him. 

"  Say  something.  It  seems  so  good  just  to 
hear  your  voice." 

So  he  sat  and  whispered  —  but  only  a  little  so 
that  she  might  rest  the  better. 

Each  time  he  spoke  she  smiled. 

Suddenly  she  rose. 

"  Samuel,  there  is  just  one  thing  more  I  must 
ask  about." 

He  pressed  her  in  his  arms. 

"  You  are  still  Sanpriel,"  he  whispered. 

She  asked  nothing  more. 

Wolf  came.  He  pricked  up  his  ears  and 
looked  at  them  intently  with  his  wild  brown  eyes, 
then  lay  down  wagging  his  tail,  quite  certain  that 
all  was  as  it  should  be. 

"  Now  the   dew  is  falling  on  the   earth. 

The  call  has  come  for  evening  prayers,  for  the 
high  mass  of  the  setting  sun." 

1  The  evening  song  of  St.  Francis. 


SANPRIEL  315 

"  I  hear  it,"  she  said,  and  laid  her  hand  in  his. 

A  silver  blue  haze  crept  over  the  ridges. 
Sweet  sounds  were  wafted  over  mountain  and  sea. 
The  forest  dissolved  into  one  huge  mass  of  gloom. 

They  sat  there  watching  the  sun  as  it  sank  be- 
low the  dark  slope. 

The  moon  came  out,  low  on  the  horizon  and 
shedding  a  pale,  silvery  glow.  The  beams  trem- 
bled as  though  some  one  were  playing  upon  them. 

Suddenly  the  air  felt  fresh,  like  a  breath  from 
the  land  beyond.  .  .  . 

"  What  is  it,  you  blossoms,  what  is  it?  " 

She  looked  at  him  and  smiled. 

"  It  is  an  angel,  coming  over  the  earth  to  give 
us  greeting." 

Her  eyes  grew  solemn  and  her  heart  swelled 
within  her.  It  seemed  as  if  it  would  burst  —  that 
she  must  die.  .  .  . 

The  heavens  were  filled  with  burning  gold  — 
with  fire  which  flamed  on  high,  then  died  away. 
A  sea  of  red  came  rolling  in  —  from  deepest  pur- 
ple to  palest  rose  in  color. 

The  eternal  snows  were  kindled,  and  Flyen  was 
tinged  with  blood. 

But  above  the  snow  and  the  mountains,  all  was 
dazzlingly  clear. 

They  seemed  to  look  beyond  the  stars  into  space 
—  into  the  transparent  depths  of  infinity. 


3i6  SANPRIEL 

And  flowers  floated  down  about  them,  rare  and 
delicate  blossoms.  Wrapped  in  nameless  colors, 
a  figure  seemed  gliding  toward  them,  as  on  white 
wings,  coming  straight  from  the  far  within.  .  .  . 

Thora  trembled.     A  fancy  seized  her. 

"  Samuel,"  she  whispered,  "  it  is  your  mother, 
coming  to  open  for  us  the  gates  to  the  Promised 
Land." 


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A     000  125  737  " 


